#progress has been painfully slow lately...

[tropes-and-tales]

A Hundred and One Nights

Characters:  Yautja/Predator x f!reader

CW:  Talk of injuries and illness; talk of death; yearning.  No smut.

Word Count:  4819

Other Pieces:  There is a part two here.

The Yautja aren’t above making mistakes.  When they kidnap a number of elite soldiers and killers from Earth to hunt, you somehow get swept up too.

You, a high school English teacher.  The only things you’ve ever killed are centipedes and a squirrel once that ran under your tires as you drove down the street.  

You were not a killer.

It doesn’t stop the Yautja from making the mistake, which is why you wake up suddenly.  Falling.  Free-falling through a blue sky.  

You’re in a parachute, and it engages just a beat too late.  You crash through the tree cover and land in the underbrush, hard.  You snap your ankle, and the pain that lances through you is so sharp, so urgent, that you finally realize that you aren’t dreaming at all.

-----

There’s others.  They find you.

They leave you.

“She’d only slow us down,” says the one man.  He turns away without a second glance.

“We’ll come back for you,” promises the woman, but she doesn’t meet your eye when she says it.

You wait until they are out of earshot to start crying.  You’re scared and hurt and you have no idea where you are.

But once you’re done, you swipe away your tears and try to come up with a plan.

-----

You were a Girl Scout, so you know basic first aid.  Bush first aid.  You had the badge to prove it.

You snap a few sticks, tear off the bottom hem of your shirt.  You create a rough splint for your ankle, and then you find another, sturdier stick that is forked at the end:  a rough crutch.

It hurts so badly, and progress is slow.  You hobble through the jungle and every step is fraught.  The ground is uneven.  

In the distance, you hear screams, snarls.  You hear a high-pitched whistle.

You have no idea where you are, but some primal part of your brain is activated:  you are in danger, and every cell in your body knows it.

-----

It’s hard to know how much time passes.  

The first night, you make it to the edge of the jungle just as darkness falls.  The stars are in configurations that you’ve never seen before, and your first thought is that you’re in the southern hemisphere.

Moments later, the moon appears over the ridge.

Then a second moon, and later that night, a third.

-----

It’s hard to know how much time passes.

You can do without food for quite a while, but water becomes a problem.  The planet is hot and humid and you sweat so much, and your mouth takes on a desperately dry, sticky quality.

You hobble onward.  You pass another human, a corpse that looks like it’s been there a while.  You’d throw up but your stomach is empty, so it only cramps painfully until you get away from the smell.

You pass giant metal containers with deflated, tangled parachutes.  Other things have been dropped here—big things that required cages.

You find a river and you nearly cry.  You manage to clumsily kneel in the mud and you drink and drink and drink until you throw it all up.  Then you drink some more.

-----

You find an outcropping of rock.  You manage to tear up some saplings to lay across the rock face, giving you some scant camouflage.

You still haven’t eaten.  Your stomach has stopped growling, but you hallucinate food.  You swear you can smell smoke, and underneath it you catch the phantom scent of barbeque, of smoked meats, of charred vegetables with a balsamic glaze, of rich red wines and crisp white ones, of heavy cakes that lie sweet and rich on the tongue, washed down with coffee so dark it makes your toes curl…

You jolt awake with a start.  It’s night and you’ve fallen asleep but there’s flickering orange over the nearest ridge.  Something is on fire.

-----

When you startle awake again, it’s because of an explosion in the sky—a spaceship exploding into a fireball.

-----

It’s hard to know how much time passes.

You catch sight of parachutes in the sky, but you can’t worry about them.  You know you are going to die on this planet, so far from home, but you wonder if any of the creatures being dropped are going to be the ones to kill you.

Maybe.  Maybe not.  The fever might kill you first.

It’s your ankle with the nub of broken bone sticking out of your skin, a sight so distressing that you can’t look at it without getting faint.  

It’s any of the handful of cuts all over your body.  You have no way to disinfect them.  You do your best to clean your wounds in the river, but infection sets in and you grow feverish, sluggish, crazed with heat.

-----

You wake up to a strange clicking sound.  A chittering sound, like an insect might make….if insects were huge.  The air in front of you shimmers and you think it’s the heat of the day, but then there’s a couple of beeps, and it comes into startling, terrifying view.

The thing.  The alien, though on this world, you suppose you are the alien.

The thing hunting you.

You had put it together piece by piece over the past days (weeks?).  The giant planet that seems to be empty save for the creatures dropped in via parachutes.  The humans you dropped in with—all of them elite fighters, from the looks, save the one smaller white guy.  

When you were young, your father and his brothers used to quail hunt.  They’d buy a crate of half-tame birds and then loose them into the grounds around their hunting camp, then pick them off one by one.  This seemed to be the exact same thing.

You’re not upset it (he?) found you.  You’re sick and exhausted and hungry and thirsty, and the infection raging through your body will kill you if he doesn’t.  A bullet to the brain will be quicker and less painful than wasting away.

“S’okay,” you tell him, holding out your empty hands to him in supplication.  “At least…least I got to see another planet.  D-different stars.  Better than…other ways to d-die.”

He tilts his head at you.  Says nothing.  Does nothing.  You lick your cracked lips and try to sit up straighter, but you cry out at the grinding pain of your ankle.  

He doesn’t move—he only watches.

“Figured it out,” you continue.  “Figured out what this is.  Game preserve, right?”  You chuckle, wince against the throb of pain in your head.  “Can’t be much of a trophy for you though, huh?  B-broke my ankle straight away.  W-weak.”

He’s so still that you’d think he was a statue, but the dread-like things on his head sway in the breeze.  

“Like the short story, y’know?  The Most Dangerous Game.  I tell it to my honors students sometimes.  General Zaroff and his hunting hounds, Ship-Trap Island, all the rest….”  You trail off, not sure why you’re babbling at this creature who is only staring at you.

You’re also not sure why he just doesn’t get it over with.  Just kill you already.

“It’s okay,” you tell him.  You shut your eyes, nod your head.  “I’m ready.  You can do it.”

You keep your eyes shut, and each moment that passes, your courage fails you a little more.  You’re sick and already dying, but you want another day, another night, another moment to feel the breeze or see these strange stars or remember all the books you’ve read and loved and mourn those you never got to read, all the movies—

“Tell.  Story.”  You open your eyes at the sound of your own voice, see the creature fiddling with some computer strapped to his arm.  It’s your own words.  Your words, recorded and played back to you.

“Tell.  Rest.  Story,” he repeats, using your words to communicate with you.

“You…you want me to tell you the story?  The Most Dangerous Game?”  You blink and shake your head slightly, sure this is the fever causing you to hallucinate the entire thing.

He nods his head.  Curt.  A single nod.

The fever roars to life in you.  A million emotions:  relief at earning another moment or two of life, disappointment for it to not be over.  Your head feels heavy and light as air at the same time, and your vision starts to waver again, but he’s still standing in front of you, impassive.

“I think—” you start to say, but darkness descends swiftly, and you aren’t aware of much beyond a handful of sensations:  a stabbing, needling pain in your thigh, a rough hand on your face, and your entire body being lifted and carried.

*****

He’s not sure why he saves you.

It wouldn’t be honorable to kill you and consider it an good hunt, but it would be merciful to kill you.  Be’kan can smell you from a distance, the sickly-sweet smell of illness.  You will die soon.  You are a filthy creature when he finds you, slick with sweat and shivering and coated in dirt, but you hold out your hands to show you have no weapons.

And then you fix him with your bright gaze—the fever giving you a crazed look—and you speak to him.

It’s the promise of a story.  Yautja live for the Hunt, but they live for stories nearly as much.  They hunt, then they gather and tell each other stories.  It’s half of why they record their hunts through their masks:  to learn from their prey, but also to glory in the retelling.

The promise of your story.  A story of a hunter.  Be’kan kneels beside your unconscious form and jabs you with needle to kill some of your pain.  Then he lifts you up, throws you over his shoulder, and takes you back to camp.

-----

His brothers tease him.  They share a sire but Be’kan is the eldest, and the younger ones torment him.

“This ooman is already dead, brother.”

“The ooman-di certainly smells dead.”

“Our brother has found a pet to nurse back to health.”

It earns them all a cuff to their heads, a snarled warning, but they chuckle and leave him to it.  Leave him to you.

-----

The needle he gave could heal small wounds, but the fever that burns through you requires something more.

He gives you a second needle’s worth of painkiller, and then he does the only thing that can heal you:  he gives you his blood.  Just a little.  Just enough.

First, though, he has to reset your broken bone.  His blood will course through you fast and hot, and it’ll heal anything in its path.  The bone needs to be set or else it will heal wrong.

You wake up when he hauls your leg into his lap.  You sit up, fold yourself upward towards him, and you try to pull away, not understanding what he’s doing.

“Be still,” he barks, and you freeze—long enough for him to wrap a paw around your leg, the other around your foot, and wrench the broken bones back together.

The shriek you let loose hurts his head, sets a roosting flock of birds alight over the nearby trees.  You’re in so much sudden pain that you grasp his upper arm, you bury your face against his shoulder before you go slack against him, and if love is an especially rare thing for a Yautja, then this is perhaps the moment it enters his bloodstream and starts to infect him, very, very slowly.

*****

You wake to find that you feel better than you have in years:  fever broken, ankle healed.  Your cuts and bruises have all disappeared.

There are three other…things.  Aliens.  Whatever they are, they are tall and broad.  They are packed with muscles and claws, and they have an entire arsenal of weapons on them.

The one who saved you—it doesn’t take long before you think of him as yours.  He is fascinating to look at, certainly ugly by human standards, but he’s fascinating.  Grey-blue in color, dull grey metal mask with a mark etched into it.  Ornaments woven into the dread-like things that sprout from his head:  polished stones and rings of metal and little pieces of bone.

He seems older than the others, though they don’t have any discernable markings of age.  No grey hair, no wrinkles.  He only seems older because he moves slower, more ponderous.  Where the others click and chitter at each other, he makes less noise—but when he does, the others still and listen.

-----

You figure it out—he keeps you alive for your stories.

The first story is the Most Dangerous Game, and he doesn’t seem to listen.  He makes you sit near the fire while he painstakingly polishes and sharpens his bladed weapons.  He makes you tell the story, and he doesn’t seem to listen, but when you trail off halfway through, he cocks his head and makes an irritated clicking at you.  So you finish.

He keeps you alive.  He feeds you, brings you water.  He gives you a wide fur to curl up in while you sleep, and he keeps himself between you and the dark night on the planet.  He keeps you from anything that may try to come out of the darkness and hurt you.

I have become Scheherazade, you think to yourself as you watch him where he lies near you.  I have to tell him stories to save my own life.

*****

Be’kan hunts with his kin, then he listens to your stories at night.  His kin may tease him, but he catches them listening on the sly, eavesdropping as you tell your stories and weave your tales with your words.  You get more and more comfortable each night; you seem to fear him less.

It is odd that you’re such a good storyteller.  He never thought of oomans as such.  They are a clever, sneaky species, but he never knew they had such stories.  And you seem to know them all.  

It is good that you are a good storyteller, because you are otherwise unimpressive.  You’re weak and small, a soft thing.  A ridiculous thing.  Up close, he can see how fragile oomans are:  the hide that tears so easily, the soft claws that cannot slash anything.  Bones too easily snapped.  He learned that lesson when he healed you—he had been too rough and hurt you.  He’d felt a sting of shame—a strange emotion for a Yautja—and vowed to be gentler with you.

Not that he will touch you if he can help it.  You are ugly like all oomans are.  You have no markings.  You have dull teeth and a strange fleshy mouth and wide eyes that leak water.  You are the same as all of your species.

So it’s good that you tell your stories, because otherwise he’d be quit of you:  he’d tear your spine out, and then he’d never again have to tuck you into his furs each night to keep your frail ooman body warm.

*****

It takes a while to calibrate which stories he wants, which…of course he wants stories about hunters and killers and fierce battles.

Which means you run through the standard fare pretty early on.  You tell him the Tale of John McClane, the Tale of Kevin McAllister, the numerous Tales of James Bond.  You turn Indiana Jones into a Nazi hunter instead of an archeologist.  The Lord of the Rings becomes a fellowship intent on hunting down and killing Sauron.  Luke Skywalker is a man out to kill an entire litany of Storm Troopers before he kills his father.  You have him kill the Ewoks too, just for fun.

Your creature….you wonder if sexism exists in his species, so you tell him the Tale of Sarah Connors to see how he reacts to a woman protagonist.  By now, he sits in rapt attention, takes a deep squat near the fire and stares at you as you tell how Sarah Connors starts as the hunted, then ends up the hunter.

He seems to enjoy the story.  He gives a slow nod at the end, as if he’s satisfied.

-----

You try more varied fare.  You tell him the story of Jane Eyre.

He takes the wrong message from it.

He also speaks to you, more than he ever has before.  He usually just gives you one or two word commands in his rough English, but hearing about Jane Eyre?

“No,” he barks, and he shakes his head angrily when you get the part where Jane flees to the moors.

“Well, the story isn’t done—”

“Jane is unworthy,” he spits out.  “A worthy mate would not flee.”

You catch the way his hands flex, the sharp claws that tip his fingers.  The warning growl he makes.

“You have to listen to the rest of the story,” you say carefully, and for the first time in the history of gothic romance novels, Jane Eyre regroups on the moors, and then stalks back to Thornfield Hall to kill Bertha Mason and prove herself a worthy mate to Mr. Rochester.

The next night, you decide to not test your luck.

“To survive a war, you gotta become war,” you tell him as you settle by the fire.  “Let me tell you a story about a man named John Rambo.”

-----

How many stories do you tell?  Fifty?  A hundred?  It’s hard to tell.  Sometimes you stretch out a story across nights, a tactic that seems to infuriate him—he snarls, he roars behind his mask, he stalks away—but then he seems more eager the next night, more eager to sit by you and listen.

And he is more willing to answer your questions, so you learn too.

His kind are called Yautja.  He is called Be’kan, a name that comes out of his mouth like a bark.  In his language of clicks and trills, it means Thundering Blade, which maybe explains why he enjoys stories with swords so much.

You tell him your name.  You tell him, as best you can, what you did on Earth.  He seems to interpret it as you being a storyteller of great fame, which makes you laugh—you barely made enough to live on your teaching salary, and your student loans would follow you into your dotage.

One night, he reaches up and undoes the grey metal mask he wears.  He removes it and shows you his real face:  an ugly thing by human standards, but just as fascinating as the rest of him.  Small, close-set eyes so yellow they look like molten gold.  Two pairs of tusks set around his mouth.

He doesn’t say anything and neither do you, but you get the very real sense that this is a moment of intimacy between the two of you.  That he’s showing you a part of himself that many don’t get to see outside of his own kind.

*****

Be’kan can’t account for what he feels for you.

Yautja don’t love.  Their breeding is a violent, painful thing.  The females—larger, stronger—fight the males, kill the males to ensure they only breed with the strongest and most worthy.  It is the same with the raising of their young:  there’s no sentiment or cuddling once a pup is no longer a suckling.

You are a soft, small thing.  Ugly and weak.  And yet you’ve cracked open some hard part of him that makes him hurt when he thinks of parting from you.

And yet…he knows he has to.

He’s reviewed the data around the sweep that took you from your planet.  It was a mistake, unthinkable yet real.  You had crossed paths with a man that day—a certain man who had killed many in one of your kind’s wars.  A man who had returned from war and kept killing.  

You lived in the same building.  You had no way of knowing.

The Yautja meant to take that man, that killer, but they took you.

Be’kan knows he has to take you back.  His honor will allow him nothing else:  you are no killer, you are not worthy prey.  You are an exalted storyteller, a worthy position in his own society, so you must be returned to your own.

And yet, in that cracked-open place, he wants to forget his honor and keep you with him.  He wants to tuck you into his furs each night and lie nearby, keeping guard over you.  He wants to listen to your stories and answer your questions about his kind.  

He wants you to fix him with that bright gaze of yours with those too-wide eyes that sometimes get watery. You see him and you don’t recoil though he is surely as ugly to you as you are to him.

He plans with his kin:  they will return home in their ship, and he will take you back to Earth in his own before he joins them.  It isn’t a long journey.

Then he tells you, and you don’t react the way he thought you might.

You frown.  Then you go quiet.

That night, when he settles near you at the fire, you don’t tell him a story.  And when he asks, you turn away from him.

“I don’t have any more stories,” you tell him.  Then you curl up on your side, your knees to your chest, and Be’kan realizes he knows nothing at all about the ooman-di who has cracked open a part of him and left him aching and empty.

*****

Life back on Earth doesn’t resume quite so smoothly.  Turns out, when you are missing for months and then suddenly resurface, people have questions.

The government has questions.  Countless men and women in dark suits interrogate you, and since you can’t think of a single plausible reason other than the truth, you tell them the truth:  that you were on an alien planet being hunted by aliens.

They don’t seem shocked, which shocks you.

-----

The U.S. government relocates you to a different part of the country as a fresh start.  You keep your own name, and you still teach, but the government gives you a nice little house set back near the edge of a forest and a nice little monthly stipend to keep your mouth shut about your alien abduction.

Your new life is the same as your old.  You teach, you go home at night.  You make dinner and you read or watch a movie, then you go to bed.

Repeat day after day.

-----

You find that you miss him.  It makes no sense.  Maybe it’s Stockholm Syndrome, but it felt right to be there.  On Earth, you always felt a step out of sync with other humans.  You understood jokes a beat too late to laugh; you didn’t find joy in a lot of the things others did.  You struggled to date, struggled to make friends.  You had been alone for much of your life.

It was a simpler life, those few months.  

Sleep curled up in warm furs, tell stories to keep your place with him.  Look up at the night sky to see strange stars and create your own constellations with their own stories.  Learn the hand signals he and his brothers give each other, learn what their different trills and clicks mean.

Then he took you on his ship and brought you back to Earth.

The night before you arrived back on Earth, he had opened a chamber on his ship.  He stepped into it and gestured for you to join him, held his big paw of a hand out to you and you had taken it, tried to ignore how it felt when he closed his hand around yours, as gentle as if he were cupping a bird.

Then he placed his other hand on your back, just a gentle.  Pulled you into the room and turned you to look at the display along the wall.

It was covered in skulls.  Polished and mounted, so many different types that you gasped.  

It had the same charged feel as when he had removed his mask.  It was an intimacy that you guessed was rare.

You studied each skull closely, except for the one that was obviously human.  You reached out and touched the sharp teeth and tusks of each, murmured at how dangerous each hunt must have been, how good a hunter he was.

You knew enough of Yautja sounds by then to know that the deep purring he made was pride.

-----

When you curl up in your bed each night, you miss the soft furs and the foreign stars in the sky over you.

You think of when he landed on Earth and left you.  How he had reached out a hand to grasp your face, gently.  How he had pressed the tip of one claw carefully to your lower lip as if he were testing how it felt.

-----  

You spend one weekend building a fire pit in your backyard.  You dig out a shallow bowl in the earth, line it with flat stones.  You create a ring around the bowl with rocks.  You spend a few hours in the woods behind your home, dragging large branches back, cutting them up with a bow saw.

You build a fire that night.  You wrap yourself in a blanket and stare into the flickering orange flames while your muscles ache from the hard work.

It’s not the same but you try.  “Let me tell you about a woman we’ll call the Bride, who went on a journey of revenge with a magical sword,” you murmur to the flames, and it’s easy to pretend that he’s just at the edge of the firelight, crouched down and listening in his still, intent way.

*****

Be’kan is not a Young Blood anymore, so he’s surprised to find that he is still capable of having the inner turmoil, the unsettled emotions of a much younger Yautja.

He had recorded many of your stories through his mask, but it’s not the same.  The stories become flat and lifeless in the recordings.  They don’t capture the magic you wove each night when you told them.  And they don’t capture after the stories, when you’d curl up by the fire and when he’d lie a distance away, near enough to hear your deep breathing and the pitiful whimpers you sometimes made when you twitched and kicked in your sleep as you dreamed.

You belong with your own kind.  You are a master; you teach the younglings of your kind with your stories.  He knows this, yet he thinks of other oomans—their sly, sneaky ways, their treachery.  How quickly your kind was willing to abandon you to suffer during the hunt.  Then he rages at them, thinks they do not deserve you.

-----

It’s hard to know how much time passes.  How many cycles in his ship, on his hunts account for the cycles on Earth.

He’s no longer a Young Blood, but a restlessness comes over him.  He hunts with his kin.  He hunts alone.  He takes new trophies and cleans them, hangs them in his trophy room, but even here he thinks of you.  He showed you his trophies and you had praised him, called him a great hunter, and he had trilled in pride.  

He replays the stories you told.  He replays the night he told you he was going to take you home, and how you had reacted.

You should have been happy to return to your own kind.  He thinks, perhaps, he understands why now.

*****

Sitting around the fire becomes your way of unwinding in the evenings.  A glass of wine, the warmth of the fire.  You can look up and see the stars, even if they are the same ones you have always known.

When you hear that strange, clicking growl one night, you think it’s an auditory hallucination.  There’s no way he’s here, no way he’s found you—

But he’s a hunter.  He’s an apex predator, so when the air in front of you shimmers and then reveals him, you can’t really be that surprised.

What surprises you is how hard your heart leaps to see him.  How quickly you spring to your feet and take those few steps to stand in front of him.  You stop at the last minute, but you very nearly tackle him—as if you could, with how big he is—in a hug.

“You’re here,” you breathe out, and he makes the clicking, chuffing sound that you’ve always thought of as his version of laughter.  But then it cuts off, and he tilts his head at you.

“Be’kan was unworthy,” he growls at you.  “A worthy mate would not have fled.”

#yautja #yautja x reader #yautja imagine #predator #predator x reader #predator imagine #predator franchise

[liberacesghost]

Day 6 -- Person A Knows Person B's Coffee Order

let's try that again! just wanna shout out @doctorsteths-fluffyfeb again, because i'm having a good time writing, but also having a good time reading. so if you're all not on that shit, get into it!!

warnings: cussing cause i literally cannot; mentions of them on a case but nothing graphic

pairing: hotch x reader sorta (use of y/n) they're not actually together and they don't actually get together, but you'll see

word count: 769

a/n: i know how super late i am pls forgive me <33

Coffee was the lifeblood of the BAU. The driving force that kept them going the long hours they had to work. The sweet nectar that fueled their bodies and minds.

And this coffee at the tiny mid-western precinct they were currently at fucking sucked. And that was putting it mildly. 

“I can’t do this. It’s been days and I need decent coffee in my system”, you say standing up. “I need a break anyway.”

The case was going…slow. Well, more accurately the team’s progress was going slow. The unsub was decidedly not slow. He was leaving a trail of bodies quicker than you could process the evidence. And yet, you were no closer to actually catching him. 

Frustrated by not only the lack of breaks in the case, but the added insult of shitty coffee was almost unbearable. 

“I’ll make a quick run - let me know what you all want”, you say to the room at large as you put on your coat, which includes Rossi, Derek, Spencer, and Emily. 

After getting their drinks all written down, you head to ask Hotch and JJ. You find them in an office that’s being repurposed for the BAU’s benefit. 

“Hey guys”, you say hanging onto the doorframe. “I’m going on a coffee run. Do you want anything?”

“Oh, tea would be amazing, thanks”, JJ says with a smile. 

Hotch nods and opens his mouth to speak, but before he can, you cut him off pointing a finger at him, “A large black coffee, no cream, 1 sugar. I know.” Then you’re out of the door before Hotch can do much more than nod again, quite uselessly. 

He’s staring into the space you just were, mouth slightly open. He didn’t think anybody paid attention to his usual order. He didn’t think you paid attention. He’d be an absolute liar if he said his heart didn’t clench almost painfully in his chest. The thought of someone listening and picking up on what he likes – well, not just somebody, but you. It’s enough to keep him from doing anything useful for a lot longer than he’d like to admit. Hoping beyond hope that his cheeks were not pinkening. 

It’s not until JJ pointedly coughs that Aaron is snapped out of it, head jerking towards the blonde. She gives him a knowing smirk, before going back to the notepad in front of her. Purposefully (and very professionally) not mentioning the coloring occurring on his face and his ears. 

Some time later, JJ has moved back to the conference room leaving Hotch alone in “his” office to scribble away at the endless reports. 

Lost in the writing and rewriting he’s felt he’s been constantly doing since he got here, he doesn’t hear footsteps approaching. It’s not until he hears the soft thud of the cardboard coffee cup on his desk, that he stops. He looks up to see you looking at him with a soft, almost shy smile. 

He looks at you like he’s seeing you for the first time.

Your timid smile. The way your eyes meet his before quickly flitting away. Teeth worrying your bottom lip. 

How he never saw it before is absolutely beyond him.

“Here you go, boss”, you say softly. 

You both just stare at each other, restrained smiles on your faces. 

The seconds turn into minutes, before you shake your head as if you’re clearing your thoughts away like an etch-a-sketch. “I also got some snacks if you’d like”, thumb pointing over your shoulder. “They’re in the conference room.”

Aaron is too stunned to say or do anything. This sudden realization that maybe, just maybe, you could feel the same way as him is overwhelming. 

When he doesn’t respond, you give him a jerky nod of your head before turning around and making your way out the room. 

Hotch says your name so softly, you turn around quickly, almost in alarm. 

Remembering that they’re on an active case and he’s still the goddamn unit chief, he catches himself before he says something incredibly telling. 

“Thank you”, he says instead. 

You look at him, brows furrowing for a brief second, eyes roaming his face and posture for something. Something he left unsaid, something he was going to say, something you wanted him to say – you weren’t sure. So you simply look him in the eyes, a small almost smirk on your face, and give him a nod before making your way back to the conference room. Leaving Hotch in his makeshift office alone with the coffee you got him, the swirling thoughts inside his head, and the ache in his chest.

#criminalmindsfandom #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds #hotch criminal minds #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotch hotchner #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x bau!reader #hotch #hotch x reader #hotch x you #bau team #jennifer jareau #jj #hotch fluff #fluff #fluffy february #tw cussing #cussing warning #doctorstethsfluffyfeb

[kemendin]

Since I’m still emotionally compromised after Thoughts Happened yesterday, here are More Thoughts! CW for discussion of character death under cut.

I tend not to map out deaths/endings for my characters, so this is all still technically in the realm of ‘hypothetical/maybe’. That said, I think this is really fitting in an awful way.

So up till now I’d just been rolling with the idea that of course Quinn dies before Khel, he’s a fair bit older. And then my brain went ‘but what if he doesn’t?’ And this whole terrible, tragic scenario unfolded and I’m so so sorry Quinn!

Khel continues to be a bold and outspoken voice for a better, more progressive, less brutal Empire. Naturally this gains him a number of enemies throughout the Empire, Sith and non-Sith alike, and about ten years after ‘current’ time, Khel is assassinated by one of his more powerful opponents. Shot dead in the streets of Kaas City as he’s out for a stroll with his husband, by a sniper rifle specifically engineered to be masked from - and kill - Force sensitives, which should never have made it past the city’s security systems. It’s sudden, shocking, painfully public, and the sniper is quickly apprehended but it’s too late.

Quinn is, of course, devastated - abruptly losing his husband of over a decade and now facing the prospect of being a single father to his and Khel’s child, who’s probably around nine or ten when it happens. In the immediate aftermath, he sends the Force-sensitive child to stay with their Great-Uncle Timmns - for safety, certainly, but also because he can’t cope with his grief and fulfill being a father at the same time (and truthfully it hurts, when every time he looks at his child, he sees how much they resemble Khel). After the initial shock wears off he goes on the metaphorical warpath for a bit, discovering who actually orchestrated Khel’s assassination and then finding every way possible to ruin the people responsible. But eventually he’s forced to rein himself in - perhaps even Acina herself steps in to explain that while she privately agrees with him, he can’t continue to cause such upheaval within the Empire’s upper ranks.

And so he focuses instead on doing his best to continue Khel’s legacy, advocating for a better Empire; but Quinn’s voice isn’t nearly as influential with those in power as Khel’s had been, and progress is slow to happen.

It’s rough for a while, trying to raise his child on his own; but he has support from Deska, Khel’s servant/bodyguard, and her partner, Major Anri, as well as Acina herself, who takes over the child’s Sith-related education and training per Khel’s wishes.

I'm not entirely sure yet if Khel is able to manifest as a Force ghost, considering that his connection with the Force was never particularly strong. If he does, I imagine it wouldn't be as a cohesive figure, but more as brief sensory experiences - a voice, a touch, a feeling. His child would be able to sense him occasionally, but Quinn, poor Quinn, never would, and for a long time he doesn't want to hear that Khel's presence is nearby, because that's almost worse - like losing him all over again.

#kem rambles #swtor:khel #kem oc #character death #i have been internally sobbing and wailing all day #as you can see i have very little info about their child yet lol #i need to work on that #but again i tend to not hop into the future too much with my characters and their stories #otp: servants of the empire

[oldestenemy]

It takes time for the wizard to adjust again.

They aren’t listless so much as… unsure of what to do.

They rearrange their castles, attend lectures they haven’t been to in months if not longer, they play chess with Meowiarty when the prison can be convinced to let them in.

They avoid all thought of Dragonspyre.

They aren’t ready to be questioned just yet.

They do run into Malorn once while in nightside. He looks better, less tired, and unfortunately he spots the wizard before they manage to duck out of sight.

“You’re back!” the wizard hates how he’s looking at them. Taking stock. Trying to see if they’re as… empty as last time. “Is it done?”

“You look better,” they say softly, forcing a smile small enough that it might look painless. “Have you been able to do your own work again?”

“I—yeah, we set up a teleporter where I used to be in Ravenwood, it comes out—” he points to a space about three feet from the doors of the Death School. “—there. Professor Drake—yours—got one to me, normally they don’t work outside student housing but it’s a special one. I’ve had it up and working for about a month and a half. I still teach the younger kids, but it’s not everyone anymore.”

The smile they are forcing does turn a little more genuine then. “Ambrose interrupted a meeting I was having with Professor Drake just before I left. I might have shouted at him. Some of it might have been about how he’s been sabatoging your education.”

And that distracts Malorn enough to stop asking about what happened. The wizard tells him about that ‘talk’ as they make their way back out of nightside and through the commons. Before they even notice, they’re at the open mouth of Bartleby and the wizard jolts to a halt, grabbing Malorn to stop him so sharply that his hat tumbles off—

“—No.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t go through here anymore.”

Don’t. Won’t. Can’t.

“Everyone will want to see you—andyou should see the progress we’ve been making with—” his voice fades out. Everything feels hazy and muffled. They can’t go back yet. They can’t deal with all the questions yet. The wizard’s heart is racing, breath shallow and quick. “—hey…” Malorn slows down and trails off, expression softening from determination into concern. “It’s alright—here—” He pulls the Dragonspyre key from where it still hangs around his neck, “—I’ve got a mark there, just—come back when you’re ready, alright?”

They don’t want it back.

It still feels heavier than it should.

But they reach out and accept the little gold key on its leather cord.

“Thank you.” It’s quiet, it’s cracked. An apology is waiting behind their teeth.

They don’t let it come.

~*~

More days pass.

They craft a new deck, test their luck at forging an athame which comes out painfully dull (they almost feel bad selling it to Artemus). They pick up a set of robes in the bazaar that don’t look so…intense. So much like armor. Later, they might pay Eloise for the glamour required to meld them to the armor anyways. But not now. It’s not so much needed when they aren’t going far beyond wizard city. The new robes are sturdy enough, if a bit stiff, embroidered with myth iconography that reminds them of earlier, easier days.

The wizard half expects to hear from Ambrose that he’s got a lead on where they need to run off to next. On what could be going on elsewhere.

Polaris. Empyrea. Mirage.

Names that mean nothing to them. How big is the spiral? It has gone all at once again from feeling too large, to too small, and back to beyond their capacity to imagine. Which is saying much, given how wide that capacity flows.

Hidden lands, broken shores.

Should they have listened to the Celestial Darklings in the pit? Tried to push forward alone? No… No, there wasn’t time. Any more delay and they would have reached the palace, and Morganthe, too late.

This isn’t doing them any good.

The stillness.

The thinking.

They’ve got the Dragonspyre key hanging around their neck.

One breath.

Another.

Remember to smile.

The hot air of the Basilica makes their lungs ache. There is always something acridabout the smoke here, the lava and sulfur make the air heavy in a way the wizard has yet to experience anywhere else.

Stepping through the portal to the Academy is like stepping into a wholly different world. Though not one completely unfamiliar.

The sky is blue. The air is still warm and heavy but it’s clear, there is no haze to it, no bite. The pile of hardened lava and obsidian that had covered the rightmost side of the academy was fully dug away. It leaves the Ice and Storm school buildings revived, no longer scaffolding and bones but properly and solidly real.

Had this really all come together since they were last here? Had it been so long since that early morning with Duncan? Though in fairness, they hadn’t lingered then, hadn’t had the time or the eyes to notice. Bleeding against the statue. Mourning a friend not even dead.

The statue—they realize—is different too.

Aurelius Ambrosius has been removed from his pride of place in the center of the grounds.

“We stole the idea from you.” Penny’s voice is bright and clear and much too close. The wizard represses a flinch as she appears beside them. “I do think Regina did a lovely job—don’t you?”

They manage to nod, “Better than I did, for sure.” Regina was, evidently, an excellent stonecarver. Or else had enlisted the help and direction of the local residents. Either way, the new statue, the trio of Professor Drake’s, was fitting given how this had come about.

Even if the likeness of Malistaire and Sylvia is almost too good.

(All of them are excellent, though the wizard has no ill thoughts about the one of Cyrus, only that he would perhaps reconsider having endorsed this project if he were aware of it.)

“Malorn said he saw you, we were all hoping you would come back soon.”

The wizard manages to smile at Penny, “I’m back—dunno for how long—it looks like you’ve all managed a lot while I was gone.” It’s nice, nicer than they thought it would be, to see progress that happened without them. So often they feel like the only one doing anything, the only one treated as capable. It’s… refreshing, seeing so much come together without needing their direct involvement, even if they would have enjoyed lending a hand in this particular case.

“We have, all the saplings are coming along nicely—the new Life tree is talking now! His name is Phyll. Lots of the other trees are starting to develop faces, the battledrakes are huge—”

“You’re back!” It’s Regina, closely followed by Ceren—and the wizard can see others not far behind, starting to converge in the courtyard—for a second they tense up again as more people draw near. “Just in time too, we put the finishing touches on your dungeon scale monstrodome plans today.”

“Oh?” The wizard latches onto that like a tow rope, like a lifeline, something easy. “Has it been tested yet?”

Regina gives them a big hopeful grin that the wizard assosciates with the sound of creaking golems and power converters. “Nope.”

Good.

Fighting is easy.

It just means trying not to show off, and not having to speak.

That, out of everything, the wizard can manage.

Read the rest here <3

#wizard101 fic #wizard101 fandom #wizard101 #wiz101 #wizzy fandom #i have a writeblr for this but shh #we are once again hanging out with the dragonspyre academy rebuild team #the wizard will talk about their problems eventually #penny and malorn WILL coax it out of them

[galaxymagitech]

Collapse

Summary: In the early days, he is alone. He has not been himself since he was nine years old, has always defined himself by the past and those around him. And he is alone, so in the early days, he is no one.

Warnings: Borderline suicidal thoughts (as in, idk if it counts or not, but...here's a warning)

Prompt Used: Collapse (Jan 3-4)

In the early days, he is alone. He has not been himself since he was nine years old, has always defined himself by the past and those around him. And he is alone, so in the early days, he is no one.

Daytime is an inconvenience. He sleeps through most of it, whenever possible, crawling to bed an hour or two after dawn and waking in the late afternoon. Somehow, he still finds time to fill out reams of paperwork, wading through legalese and statistics and reports. At meetings, he makes the same suggestions again and again. Eventually, they are implemented, but the progress is always slow, so painfully slow. Since he returned from abroad and made his proposals, the Wayne Foundation’s projects have always in “planning” or “development.” It’s been a year, and no one has been helped.

Evenings pass in a haze of faked inebriation, or occasionally true inebriation. He tells himself that it’s always the former, though. He tells himself that his mind is still sharp, that he’s still vigilant, but—well, everything seems to slip by. A smile pinching painfully at his face, a blur of well-dressed vultures, the buzz of high-society conversation, still smiling, lipstick against his cheek, laugher light and high like a flock of incessant birds, the taste of champagne on his tongue, smile, smile, smile.

Night is when he drenches himself in darkness and fights the demons of the city. It’s the sickening crunch of bone, his bone, his opponent’s bone, it doesn’t matter. It’s a signal in the sky, calling him to another battle in the unending war. It’s laughter, visceral and real, snaking its way under his skin and eating him inside-out. His knuckles bleed. When he improves the gauntlets to protect him, he finds he misses the feeling.

In the early days, this is his whole world: the Waiting, the Cover, the Mission.

They say that Batman hides in the shadows, that he sees everything and lies in wait, ready to leap into action. This is inaccurate. He is a man, and far from omniscient. And he cannot hide in the shadows.

In Gotham, you cannot see the stars, and the moon—the moon is often covered by smog. They say that Batman banished the moon, or the Owls stole it so they could have it all to themselves. Or it fled, ashamed, that night in Crime Alley when the Waynes fell and the Wayne Foundation fell with them. The smog is another thing he has tried to fix with the Foundation, and another project where he has been told he must wait. And so, the moon is hidden.

There is light in the buildings, but all too often, he walks too far for that light to reach. He moves in the darkness.

He had hoped to cast a shadow over the criminal element. But Batman cannot cast a shadow without a light.

So in the early days, he is simply a lonely man in the darkness, striking at enemies he cannot see until dawn breaks and he is forced to retreat.

One night, he stands over a madman, breathing far too heavily to catch his breath. There is a smile painted and scarred on the man’s face. This is another victim of the city, the hungry city which takes and takes and takes and never gives.

Visions of ballrooms flash through his mind. Ceaseless, meaningless chatter. A flute of champagne chilled beneath his fingers. He is sick of pretending.

There is a bullet in his calf, and a slash where the Joker’s knife cut through his Kevlar armor, and his head is ringing, ringing, ringing. He thinks he hears church bells in the distance, but he can’t tell how long they chime. They might just be in his head. This might all just be in his head.

His knees buckle and he hits the cobblestone street, jarring the gunshot wound. He grunts in pain, but doesn’t allow himself anything more.

If he stays here, he wonders, will he just melt into the city? Thomas and Martha Wayne are legends, their names plastered on buildings and charities, their names whispered at galas, their names on a list of the dead. It feels dirty. They ought to be silence, now that they’re gone, because the silence is ringing in his ears like the bell.

He doesn’t want his name to ring through the city. He doesn’t want it to be a tragedy in the papers. He doesn’t want to be a story or a legend. He wants to melt into the cobblestone along with his blood. He wants to disappear.

But he has never gotten what he truly wanted.

His injuries burn. Fire seems to radiate through his body.

Focus on the pain. Focus on how it hurts, how it spreads through his body in waves, how his muscles twitch with exertion. Don’t think about anything else. Stay awake. Stay out of shock.

Walk. One foot in front of the other. Boots on the cobblestone. Blood dripping to stain the streets. He will not die in Crime Alley, beside his parents’ corpses. He will not be a headline for people to performatively mourn. He will not be an argument over where to perform the funeral or who officiates, a mourning split in two, a mismatched burial out of sync.

So, he stumbles to the Batmobile, and then he drives. He takes off his gauntlets and stares at his knuckles, white as he grips the wheel, as if that will keep him alive, as if that will make him real. When he steps into the cave, he remembers that Alfred is in England. He remembers that he is alone.

Up the stairs. One step, then another. This is alright, he thinks. His blood flows onto the polished wooden floorboards, but it isn’t cobblestones. He has always struggled so hard to survive, but he thinks maybe he can die here, alone as he lived, as long as there are no ghosts. His funeral will not matter after he is dead. He will not have to read the papers. Time will pass. It always does.

No more. He can’t walk any more. He collapses onto the floor and doesn’t try to get up. Consciousness slips in and out. Death can’t feel too different from life, he thinks. Darkness, without light, and he hasn’t had light in so long.

Time passes. Darkness creeps in.

There aren’t any shadows.

***

He wakes up 58 hours later, clean bandages over stitched-up wounds, tucked underneath a warm duvet. It is a stormy day, as always, and too overcast to see the sun. His curtains are open anyway.

The tea on his nightstand is bitter; Alfred must be disappointed. He cannot bring himself to care.

He remembers, now. Alfred was returning early due to the weather conditions. It’s a stroke of luck, though he can’t quite decide if that luck is good or bad. It is 1 pm, according to his clock, which means that it is time for the Waiting. And after that, the Cover. And after that, the Mission. And after that, the Waiting. Again, and again, and again. Inescapable.

This war cannot be won by a man fighting in the dark with no shadow at all. But he is unable to provide a light.

He will not win, but he cannot help but fight as long as he lives.

He had expected to die. But staring at the grey sky and sipping over-seeped tea, he doesn’t think he doesn’t think there’s much of a difference, anyway. He is simply an unknown soldier, fighting a war alone, unaware that it has already been lost. He is a ghost in an alleyway, kneeling over his parents’ corpses, unable to move on. He is a revenant, dead already, dead for years, only a phantom of life left in him.

He is nothing.

Nothing, unless he can find a light.

#batman #fanfiction #bruce wayne #whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno2 #collapse #dc comics #tw: sucidal thoughts

[uselessidiotsquad]

Barely coherent rambles

Obligatory Riag rambles, he's been marinating in my brain for the last few weeks so I have to squeegee out the build up every once in a while. So here it is! Under the cut to save everyone's dash since it's basically me going AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Part character study, part musings, all brain dump.

His whole nature is contradictory and it both captivates me and confuses me to no end.

He looks like spring (and tastes like it, if we're going with the whole smooch a 'vari get a plant flavor idea - his is a type of apple in this regards) but his energy is late winter and death. There's a weight to him, but he is wiry and lithe in form, that you can physically feel in his presence. He also feels it and is aware of his effect on people, it causes him to distance himself. He is just heavy. Even when he is bright, upbeat, or motivated, it's there as an undercurrent like gravity.

Believing himself to be something of a black hole of a person, drawing people in to either slow/weigh them down or pull them under the event horizon. He would argue and seethe with it that he wasn't always like this.

Once, not as long ago as it feels, he was spring. He was the rising of the flowers and the swaying of petals and the pollen filled air of May. He was sunlight on cool, damp ground and birds singing with their hearts in their throat for all the world to hear their laughter most golden. He was the light brush of sunrise over dew laden fields. He was motion and promise and action and progress. He was, he promises he was.

But now he is not and he feels every moment of it. Part of this comes with the territory of his Dream connection being very nearly severed. That innate feeling of Growth/Life/Spring/Potential from the Dream is basically gone. Now he is death, wearing the skinned pelt of life and he is Winter clinging to the decaying remnants of last spring. He can't find fault or blame for anyone who doesn't want to stay for the dark part of the year. He understands their distance and is distanced from himself, too.

There are so many things about his relationships (platonic and romantic and with himself) that compel me. One of the main ones is the classic, 'will people still love me if I am not who I used to be'. Riag has changed in a lot of ways, both physical and mental/emotional. I still defend that he's one of my most aesthetically pleasing kids (handsome bastard) but it's undeniable that a certain vibrancy is gone. Not exclusively physical, though his coloring has shifted over the years, but just an aura. He used to have a certain energy of success and determined heroism, an aura of victory that would carry anyone in it. Even if they didn't want to be swept up in it.

Yet he's not a beacon anymore, just a steady - somewhat dim - peach glow. All that he used to hold proud about himself is gone and yet he remains. But it's the finding of being worthy of love even if you don't believe it that sticks with me the most. Being cherished even if you aren't who you thought you would be. Not this neutral benign acceptance, damn it, but actively loved and appreciated.

It's even just him having to come to terms with the surreal state of other people finding value in you when all that you loved about yourself is broken and gone. And yet he remains, though he's not sure why and there's no clear path ahead of him. Riag's never been about 'finding yourself again' because that implies that the self is a concrete, set idea. When it's not, the self is ever changing. However, he hadn't had the luxury of such introspective thoughts until he was put out of commission.

Him having such a strong identity of himself - only to have it completely shattered - and then slowly and painfully realize that it wasn't as fixed as he thought. He just didn't have opportunity for anything else. Also the Dream sort of shaped him into thinking he had one set role, purpose, and perception of self. And then gradually living with this idea he had crafted of himself being gone and continuing anyway. Not necessarily being 'okay' with it and not glad of it but enduring all the same.

So he is growth but he is also death. He is necromancy but also nature. He himself *is* and *isn't* at the same time. Spring in full bloom and the icy crawl of Winter.

ANYWAY HAD TO BRAIN DUMP

If you made it this far go get a drink of water, hug your pet/plushy.

#riag #riaghael #gw2 #sylvari

[renneiscent]

You Are All That Matters

I’m alive, unfortunately. I feel bad for updating really late, so here I posted two chapters. First, here it’s Jake’s POV. Some parts will be changed to adjust with the plots, I hope this makes sense and sincerely apologise for bad writing. Enjoy!

Jake's POV

Chapters: 16/?

< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >

I cannot remember how long it’s been taking that we are separating from each other. But I am able to tell every second of that bitter moment never gives me any ease. I wonder if this long tunnel from the mine or the fact about she is somewhere in strange place without me beside her which make it more badly. To add the fuel to the fire, how she ignored my words and chose to observe the strange room she found with all the evidences there instead of prioritising her own safety; I’m puzzled to decide whether I should be amazed with her finding and bravery or agitated with lot of stress she put on me.

I shake my head and try to put aside my concern. This never-ending worry of mine will not make any progress. The only thing we need right now is being logical and thinking about everything rationally, that is the only way to finish this case. The faster I’m roaming in this tunnel, the sooner I will get back and protect her.

I quicken my pace with my eyes are scanning at every spot it could take. Nothing worthwhile here, what am I looking for actually? I have no clue. This tunnel seems to have no ends. Should I go back or explore little longer? Thinking, Jake, thinking.

“What a nuisance,” I’m taking a deep breath, feeling annoyed. Let’s just explore this for more 5 minutes; if I didn’t find anything useful then I will go back to her. This mine is disgustingly funny. I wonder where this Michael Hanson is, nothing in this place is showing his sign of existence. With the gunshot wound on him, he should really be vulnerable right now. I’m assuming he is supposed to be resting somewhere in this place. Well, even if he is managed to handle it, he couldn’t explore further. He is aged after all. But I cannot be so sure. It’s not the first time I’m wrong with my statement.

You can’t be so careless with your assertions.

I snort remembering those words; those words which painfully delivered by her when I had to leave and how she saw her friend got attacked right in front of her eyes through the phone. I was really sure nothing in this investigation will get out of my hands but now until this last second of today, everything which I planned is gone terribly wrong. This is so humiliating. I promised to myself for protecting her, but what did I do right now?

I immediately check the screen from my phone to find out where she is. The red dot is showing in the other side of this tunnel, it looks like she is not moving from that place for these past few minutes. What did she find there? Whatever it is, I hope she didn’t encounter with Michael. I put my phone back to my pocket and continue to explore this place carefully. I just walked few steps and there my eyes are catching a glimmer of light on the end of this tunnel. My hand is immediately pulling the mask to cover half of my face, I don’t know what kind of light and place is that but whatever it is I’m certain that I won’t show my face fully.

The flashlight of mine has been turned off and my feet are heading to that strange spot with slow and careful steps. I’m trying to not create any noise in every step of mine but these gravels which scattered everywhere make it harder. I stopped walking and hiding in the corner of the tunnel and take a good looking inside with peeping in. No one is here or at least it looks like that. I’m slowly entering this strangely secret room. So the glimmer of light that I saw earlier is from one of the lantern. There are only two old lanterns which not fully covering whole room but it’s good enough to help me exploring here.

I’m quickly scanning the room to check if someone is hiding in this room but seems like no one is really here. Is that a computer? I immediately walk toward something which I assume it’s a computer. It is really a computer. Hold on, what? The computer is showing a loop video about the stream of Hannah and Richy which Michael sent toward MC earlier. I should have realised the stream is fake! Fuck, another mistake from me. What didn’t I realise it sooner? It should be piece of cake! Here I am convincing everyone that I’m a wanted hacker. How lame.

Wait, there is camera beside the computer; I took it right away and check what is inside. This camera is what Michael use to record Hannah and Richy. I’m about to check if there are more things which recorded by this camera but I suddenly hear something. With the split of seconds, I hide behind the desk where the computer is and while peeking to find out what it’s the sound coming from since I didn’t hear someone’s footstep at all.

“…Hannah?” I immediately walk out from my hiding after finding out the sound is coming from Hannah which is unconsciously lying on top of the wooden bench. I was able to see her since her body is covered by this wide blanket but right now her face is half exposed. I’m heading myself toward her and pressing my first and middle fingers to the side of her neck while my eyes are looking at the watch on my wrist, checking her pulse rate. Her pulse rate is normal thankfully. I escape a long sigh as if one of the weighs on my shoulder at least is lessen a bit.

“Hannah? Wake up, Hannah!” I shake her shoulder, forcing her to wake up. Is she sleeping or did Michael do something to her? I’m observing her condition but it seems that she doesn’t look like that she got hurt or injured. “Hannah? Hey, wake up!”

Her eyelids are moving then it’s slowly opening, she blinks few times before her eyes are widely open. “Richy?” she whispers.

I’m bending down and pulling off my mask down so she is able to see me clearly, “it’s Jake. Are you okay? Are you cold? Is something happened?” my eyes are scanning every inch of her, double-checking if she is really okay.

“Jake? Jake! You really came!” she is getting up and immediately jumping to hug me; it caught me off guard and it makes me lose the balance in the split of seconds and almost fell to the ground. But thankfully, I managed to hold my balance while holding her in my arms.

I’m helping to make her sit down on the bench carefully, “of course I came.” I pull her away from the hug and ask with concern, “you didn’t answer me. Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

“I’m okay, thank you. I’m really fine. Don’t worry!” She put this reassuring smile on her face. I’m sitting next to her and again checking her condition; after all, she had been missing for few days. I need to be sure. “Sorry for suddenly hug you.”

“No need. Are you really certain that you are fine? You are not hurt or something?” I ask for confirmation again while holding both of her hands tight.

“One hundred percents, Jake. I’m really okay! Look, I’m able to walk.” She stood from her position and walking in circle, “see?” she says while looking at me, asking for approval. I nod and stand up straight.

“Good, then let’s go out from this mine right now.” I’m trying to walk away from her but she soon grabs my arm, making me little bit startled with her action.

“Hold on, have you seen my friend? Young man, kind of tall wearing black hooded jacket like you?” her face shows with concern.

“Did you mean Richy Rogers? No, I haven’t seen anyone since I’m inside this mine. Did you know where is he, Hannah?” I just realised that Richy is nowhere to be found in this room, how careless of me forgetting one of MC’s friends.

“I’m not sure, I fell asleep and I didn’t see him leaving.” She answers while her eyes are scanning every spot in this room. So, she fell asleep when I found her? Was Michael really not doing anything at all?

“How about Michael Hanson, where is that man?” I’m trying to ask while checking the room once again, wondering if that man is hiding somewhere. I missed Hannah from my gaze which lay down on this bench, who knows if I slip Michael either?

“Michael Hanson… is not here. He is never here, Jake.”

I frown, confused with what just she said. But before I managed to ask her again, my phone is vibrating inside my pocket. I immediately take my phone and check it; one message from MC. “Hold on a second, Hannah.”

MC: Jake?

MC: Alan finally knows about the Ironsplinter Mine!

MC: He even knows about the secret hatch

MC: You need to get out of there as soon as you can

MC: I will meet you as soon as possible

MC IS NOW OFFLINE

Alan is coming? The fuck. Plan, plan. Let me list what I should do first. I must go back to MC and take both of us out from here as soon as possible but what about Hannah? Should I just take her with me? Her condition looks fit enough. I’m checking the map on my phone for looking the nearest way out from here. Oh, the nearest escape is in the same way with MC’s place. Alright then, it means I can get to MC while helping Hannah out from this mine. All settled. I keep my phone back then look at Hannah, “explain it while we are getting out from here. You sure you can walk?”

“Yeah, but what about Richy?” she hesitates.

“I will help you out first and then look for him. MC is here too, I also need to get back to her.” I pull my mask to cover my face then take out my flashlight and lead the walk. Hannah is following me from behind. I can hear her jogging a bit behind me. Without I’m aware, I think I just subconsciously quicken my pace. “So, what do you mean about Michael is never here?”

“MC? Who is that? Your girlfriend, Jake?” her question tickles me.

“The person which her number you have sent to Thomas three days after you disappeared.” I explain briefly. Not going to explain about my relationship between MC and me, let’s do that later. It feels like my face is going hot all of sudden. I have no clue what is the reason.

“What? I didn’t send any number to Thomas.”

Her words make me stop walking and wipe all of the heat around my face, I turn myself to her. “What did you mean that you didn’t send any number?”

“That’s what I meant. I didn’t send—I never send someone’s number to Thomas.” She insists.

I immediately take my phone and press some buttons on the screen then show my phone to her, “what is this then? This is not someone’s number?”

That is the screenshot from Thomas’s phone which I managed to take earlier before I deleted the message thus they couldn’t take it to the police as the proof. Why am I seeing the bewildered look on her face?

“Oh no, the next message must get cut! I was about to send receipt’s number to help you guys get the real culprit but my phone was dead because of the battery, but I didn’t know the other message didn’t reach you at all! I’m really sorry! Is this person getting dragged this far because of me? Oh my god…” Hannah stress out while explaining.

“It’s alright, Hannah. We can explain it to her, she is nice person. Your friends are getting along really well with her already. That’s why she is volunteer herself to come here for saving you and Richy. Let’s continue our walk, shall we?” I hold her shoulder and give a gentle squeeze while staring at her. Her eyes show that something bothers her.

“Jake, I didn’t manage to tell you earlier. It’s Richy.” She trails off, her voice sounds that it’s full of pain.

“Come again?” my brows furrow, not sure if I understand what she said.

“It’s Richy,” she reiterates. “It’s Richy all along, Michael Hanson is never here. Richy is the real culprit.”

“That’s not possible. MC saw him ambushed and there was blood coming from his mouth, and the stream video? It shows both of you got tied up.” I almost lost my decency and raised my voice out of frustration. What is the reason for Richy to become culprit all this time?

“All of those things are just his scenarios! He kidnapped me because he was scared then he convinced me to do his plan which involving Michael when Michael Hanson is never in Duskwood at all! The video is having second part which if you would have seen that showing both of us got free from our shackles then we flee from the mine while Michael burned to death in the fire!” the tears are suddenly flowing from Hannah’s eyes, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I should just run away before, I should realise that Richy is already changing.”

I instantly try to call MC, hoping she never encounter with Richy. I don’t know any more what is the truth and what is not. What I know is I need to see her at this moment, right this time. “Fuck, why there is no connection all of sudden. Can you run, Hannah? We need to move quickly!”

She nods, “yes! I will follow you from behind!”

< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >

#duskwood #duskwood everbyte #duskwood game #duskwood fandom #jake x mc #duskwood fanfiction

[armandosdigitalblog]

The Evolution of Online Movie Streaming

Introduction:

The digital landscape has revolutionized the way we consume entertainment, particularly in the realm of movie streaming. The evolution of online movie streaming has been a fascinating journey, marked by technological advancements, changing consumer behaviors, and the constant quest for convenience. From the early days of dial-up internet to the era of high-definition streaming, the evolution of this industry has been nothing short of remarkable.

Early Days of Online Movie Streaming:

The concept of ดูหนังออนไลน์ took its first steps in the late 1990s and early 2000s. However, the experience was far from seamless. Dial-up connections meant painfully slow buffering times and often resulted in pixelated, low-quality videos. Services like Netflix and Amazon Prime were in their infancy, offering a limited selection of movies and a user interface that was still in its rudimentary stage.

Technological Advancements and the Rise of High Definition:

The turning point in online movie streaming came with the widespread availability of broadband internet. This allowed for faster data transmission, significantly improving the streaming experience. With higher bandwidths, services began offering higher resolution content, marking the shift from standard definition to high definition. Viewers could finally enjoy clearer, crisper images and better sound quality, enhancing the overall viewing experience.

Expansion of Streaming Services:

The last decade witnessed an explosion of streaming services. Major players like Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Prime Video, and Disney+ began to dominate the market, offering vast libraries of movies and TV shows. This competition fueled innovation and content creation, with each platform producing exclusive, original content to attract subscribers. The sheer variety of content available today caters to diverse tastes and preferences, making streaming a primary source of entertainment for millions worldwide.

The Influence of Mobile Technology:

The proliferation of smartphones and tablets has further transformed the landscape of online movie streaming. Viewers now have the flexibility to watch movies on the go, breaking the barriers of traditional viewing habits. Streaming platforms developed mobile apps, making it convenient for users to access their favorite movies anywhere, anytime. This shift in viewing behavior has significantly impacted the way content is consumed, with a growing emphasis on mobile-friendly experiences.

The Role of AI and Personalization:

Artificial intelligence has played a pivotal role in the evolution of online streaming. Streaming platforms leverage AI to analyze user preferences and viewing habits, providing personalized recommendations. This not only enhances user experience but also assists in content discovery, ensuring that viewers find movies tailored to their interests. The use of AI in content recommendation systems has become a game-changer in keeping audiences engaged.

Challenges and Future Trends:

While online movie streaming has come a long way, challenges persist. Issues like piracy, content licensing, and subscription costs continue to pose challenges to the industry. Looking ahead, the future of online streaming seems promising. The integration of virtual reality, augmented reality, and interactive content could redefine the viewing experience. Additionally, the emergence of 5G technology promises even faster and more reliable connections, potentially unlocking new possibilities for streaming services.

Conclusion:

The evolution of online movie streaming has been a dynamic journey, shaped by technological advancements and changing consumer behaviors. From the cumbersome beginnings of dial-up connections to the seamless high-definition streaming of today, the industry has continuously adapted to meet the demands of an ever-evolving audience. As technology continues to progress, the future holds even more exciting prospects for the world of online movie streaming.

[thebibliosphere]

I had a question.

So, just an hour or two ago, I was going through some sort of “manic high”, sorta like how somebody with bipolar disorder would have (I don’t have BPD). It felt like a bullet train at max speed and completely derailing, and it was incredibly draining. It also got me wondering.

Do people with severe enough ADHD deal with ADHD episodes like this? My search attempts are often futile because all of it is just talking about how to differentiate between BPD and ADHD and BPD manic episodes, but nobody ever mentions ADHD episodes; the only time I’ve seen it mentioned ever was when somebody made a clip of crankgameplays to show what an ADHD episode looked like.

Do they even exist? I’ve got no idea, so I was just wondering if you knew.

Hey! Sorry, I saw your other ask a while ago, but I wanted to talk to my ADHD specialist before I answered because I’d never heard of the term “episode” being used to describe ADHD. I’m also going to splice both questions together here and answer them in segments in the hope it helps :)

So like I said, I’d never heard of the term “episode” with ADHD, and neither has my specialist. Part of ADHD is having a natural ebb and flow between inattention and hyperactivity, sometimes skewed toward one or the other, depending on your ADHD type. (What are the different types of ADHD?)

Your type of ADHD may also fluctuate because of other factors, such as stress, changes in medication, hormonal fluctuations, lack of sleep, overstimulation, or even under-stimulation, to name a few. Another overlooked part of ADHD is emotional dysregulation, which may cause rapid cycling emotions that may look like an “episode” to someone unfamiliar with what that actually qualifies. The way my therapist explained it and using your example of bipolar disorder, “episode” is used in diagnostic criteria to categorize manic or depressive episodes that last X amount of time, are usually severe, potentially requiring hospitalization, and are accompanied by other symptoms not found in ADHD.

Our “bursts” of energy or lack thereof typically don’t last long enough to be considered episodes. This isn’t to say they are not severe or debilitating, especially if you suffer from things like anxiety or depression that ADHD can feed into. Merely that “episode” is not used as part of the language used to discuss ADHD, which is likely why you’re not finding anything.

So, do ADHDers experience intense bursts of energy that are draining afterward? Yeah, we can do, especially if we lean more toward hyperactive than inattentive. (And again, it's normal to fluctuate and also for things to be affected or worsened by secondary factors.)

And I'm going to put the rest under the cut because this is hella long.

I’ve seen some people think that all hyperactivity has to come with fixation, but that’s not how ADHD works. It’s true if something gets us excited or gives us a dopamine boost, we might be more prone to becoming hyperfixated and burn all our energy up on that. But you don’t need something to fixate on to experience hyperactivity. Some of us are just wired to the moon sometimes, and yes, it can be very draining when it ends. Some people find medication helpful in regulating their hyperactivity/preventing it from coming in such big swings and dips.

Speaking personally, when I'm hyper and nothing is grabbing my attention, the world and people around me can feel painfully slow. It's like I'm going a mile a minute doing everything but achieving nothing. The crash that comes after can also be particularly bad, as I also have dysthymia, which can tip over into a major depressive episode depending on other factors in my life at that time. For years I was misdiagnosed as having "probably Bipolar Type II" by a doctor who didn't believe teenage girls could "get" ADHD* and convinced my parents I needed psychoactive drugs. The drugs I was on didn't help, in fact, they made me worse so I was taken off them.

It wasn't until I found an ADHD specialist as an adult a few years ago that I made any real progress. And I'll be honest, I was shocked when she diagnosed me with ADHD, I really didn't think I had it. Right up until we started doing the work and slowly but surely my mental health began to improve and my understanding of myself with it.

Sometimes there are days when I will be wired to the moon and it will derail my entire day because I can't focus on a single thing/I'll focus too much on a single thing. Other times, like when I am closer to my menstrual cycle, I'll crash into inattentiveness and depression because of how my hormones affect my various different conditions, including my ADHD. Medication would likely help with this, but due to medical reasons, that's currently not an option for me so I do the best I can.

That said, if you’re experiencing something more than hyperactivity but it's not mania, you may be experiencing a form of hypomania and you should talk to a doctor about your concerns.

Hypomania typically occurs in Bipolar Type II disorder, which is less severe than the manic episodes in Bipolar I. I’ve experienced both manic and hypomanic episodes in my life due to medication interactions, and they felt very different from ADHD hyperactivity. It's not just derailing mile-a-minute thoughts, it's something usually completely mood-altering and out of control feeling followed by devastating crashes.

If you're on any medications and are worried you are experiencing something like this, you need to talk to your doctor. You might just need a dosage tweak, or you might be better off on a different medication altogether. Also, make a thorough check of any and all medications you are taking to check for any interactions.

I'm on a cocktail of meds for my MCAS, which if I were to combine them with the SSRI one of my doctors wants me to try, would result in serotonin syndrome. The doctor didn't notice this, but the pharmacist sure as shit did!

Some people (ask me how I know) even develop mild hypomania from overusing the sunlamps used to treat SAD (link), which is why brands like Verilux now include warnings in their leaflets about not using the lamps for more than X amount of time a day. Thankfully it goes away once you stop overusing the lamps.

Which actually brings me to something you asked last time about being unable to sleep at night. Insomnia and delayed sleep phase cycles are not uncommon in ADHD. This is likely because our circadian rhythm is thought to be out of whack (link).

You also mentioned having racing thoughts at night too, which is not uncommon either with hyperactivity. I find if I get overstimulated before trying to sleep, I’ll end up lying there awake with what I like to call “radio ADHD” playing in my head. It can range from snippets of songs stuck on repeat, conversations, things I’ve watched on TV, arguments, or if something is happening the next day, fixating on not being late for it. Hence, I end up getting no sleep because you can’t accidentally sleep in if you don’t sleep. *jazz hands of despair.*

Sometimes I find Radio ADHD soothing if it’s fixating on something chill, but it can get annoying fast and even distressing if I’m tired and can’t “change the station.” (I’d say “shut it off,” but as of yet, I’ve never been able to do that. Medication helps some people with this, as can looking into “sleep hygiene” if you haven’t already.) Conversely, if I’m bored or something is too stressful, I will 100% fall asleep because my brain would literally rather just turn off than do something I don’t want to do or is a low dopamine reward task.

Brains are fun.

Anyway, I uh, I am not sure if any of this is useful to you, but I hope it helps. Mostly I'm just repeating back what my specialist said when I asked her about it lol. Good luck, and I hope you figure things out.

----

*NB: It's important to note that ADHD and Bipolar Disorder can be comorbid. It's not a one or the other situation. I’m just throwing it out there in case hearing that helps someone else pursue the proper diagnosis!

#adhd #not a doctor #just a sick person with lots of lived experience

[bestiesenpai]

Neophyte - Gojo Satoru

I shall feed you lol and here is the post they’re talking about, in case anyone would like context

Content warning: dumb inexperienced reader, age gap, almost exclusive usage of ‘little girl’ (reader still 18+ of course lads), uh losing virginity, spitting as well...oh and squirting too

Two weeks. That’s how long they said they’d be gone for, and although you were old enough to be on your own, your parents insisted on getting you a babysitter.

“Bye you two! We’ll call when we make it to the hotel!” Your mother shouted from the backseat of the car.

“Make sure (Y/N) doesn’t stay up too late, her sleep schedule is already bad as it is!” Your father added, loading up the bags in the back of the taxi. He chuckled when you groaned, and he sat in the car.

“Bye!” Waving goodbye, you watched them speed off into the evening sky, the sunset painting a pretty picture for their departure.

“Alright, first order of business: ordering some food!” Gojo announced, pulling his phone out of his pocket and walking to the front door. “What do you want, (Y/N)? I’m feeling like having pizza.”

“Pizza is fine.” Trailing after him, you tried not to let your gaze settle on him for too long. You didn’t hate having Gojo staying over, it was quite the opposite. You wanted nothing more than to run your hands through his crazy hair and have him kiss you senseless and there were plenty of nights you lied awake thinking about him with an ache between your legs, and it would only get worse as the days went by.

“Here’s to our first night together!” Gojo cheered, clinking his beer can against your soda. Leaning back in his chair, he took a massive bite of his pizza, making you laugh at how his cheeks puffed out. Your eyes wandered down to his beer, and you suddenly had a question.

“Gojo, can I try your beer?”

“Hm? You sure?” Lifting up the can with the edges of his fingers, he turned it over in his hand. “Why would a little girl want to try something like this?” A subtle heat rose to your cheeks, getting warmer when his eyes looked at yours.

“I’m just curious. Please?” Stretching your hand out, Gojo lets you take the can from him.

“Alright, but not too much.” He warned. Leaning back in his chair, a smirk spread across his face. The smell wafting up from the can was enough to give you pause, but you tipped your head back and drank anyway.

“Ew!” Curling your lip away as soon as the taste coated your tongue, you held it out for Gojo to take back. His laughter filled the air, getting even louder watching you chug your soda to rid yourself of the taste.

“Not your favorite?” He chuckles, taking a sip.

“No.” Shaking your head, a shiver rips through you. “How can you like that stuff?”

“When you’re a grown up, you’ll understand.”

“But I am grown up.” Gojo ignores your statement with another chuckle and a bite of his food.

Once dinner is over, it’s time for a movie. It’s Gojos idea, he wants you two to get comfortable with each other, after all he will be staying in your guest bedroom. He even went out for a quick run to the convenience store to grab you ice cream and a few treats to eat. Letting you pick the movie, he lounges on the end of the couch in a pair of breezy shorts, legs stretched out far and another beer in his hand.

Quietly eating the snacks he gave you, you keep your body curled up on the other end of the couch. You’d both changed into more comfortable clothing, and while you were fully clothed, it made a strange feeling bubble inside you to wear such short shorts near him. You had no problem wearing these shorts around friends, but with Gojo it felt different.

“I’ve never seen this before.” He comments offhandedly, swaying his leg side to side as the opening credits roll. “What’s it about?” He glances over at you and for a moment you think he’s staring at your bare legs, but then he’s making eye contact with you.

“Uhm…” Biting your lip, a wave of bashfulness goes over you. “It’s a romantic comedy.”

“Ah.” Nodding like he understands, he returns his attention to the screen. Your fingers twitch, wanting to grab the remote and change it to something more highbrow. Something that a grown up like Gojo would enjoy.

As the movie goes on, you’re painfully aware of every line that’s said. Usually, this film can make your heart race with how romantic it usually is, but now it’s just making you cringe. Taking a look at Gojo, he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

“Woah, pretty steamy.” He chuckles at a scene, and you rip your eyes away to see what he means. Two characters are passionately kissing on screen, their hands gripping each other's clothing so roughly it looks like they might tear.

“We can fast forward.” As heat rises to your cheeks, you reach for the remote.

“No, it’s okay.” Grabbing your wrist to stop you, Gojo shrugs. “I don’t mind.” The feeling of his fingers wrapped around you lingers long after he’s let go. Watching the same hand go back to resting on his lap, the tips of his fingers just barely touching his thighs, makes more heat come to your face.

As the story progresses, you try to forget about the scene entirely. You’re able to let your body relax, even stretch out your legs onto the portion of the couch that’s been left unoccupied. There are a few more kissing scenes and they all make you nervous and bring your eyes to Gojos face to watch his reaction.

“I can feel you staring.” Gojo grins like a fool and turns to you, catching you right in the act.

“S-sorry.” Hiding him from view with your hand, you stare at the floor and try to push down the shame at being caught. Gojo laughs, an easy sound aided by the alcohol in his system, and his hand comes down to graze the top of your foot.

“What’s in that head of yours, little girl?” His hand firmly grabs your ankle, playfully pushing your leg side to side as he waits for an answer.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s something.” He immediately counters, and the hand on your ankle tugs at you. “Let’s see, you only look at me when there’s kissing…” Putting more weight into his grip, he lets out a hum. “Are you trying to tell me you want a kiss?”

“No!” Gasping loudly, your head snaps to attention and instantly you regret it from the way a smirk seems permanently placed on Gojos face. He doesn’t say anything, just watches as you try to curl away from him.

“Sheesh, way to make me feel special.” Lightly scratching your leg, Gojo puffs out his chest a little. “I’ll have you know plenty of people have said I’m a great kisser.” A devilish look overtakes his face, a new thought having popped into his head. “I bet you haven’t even had your first kiss, huh?”

The noise you let out is stupid and unintelligible, and it tells Gojo all he has to know. The hand on your ankle goes a little higher to grab your shin and this time when he tugs at you, your body moves slightly.

“So what if I haven’t?” You try to save whatever dignity you have left by forcing your voice to be stern, but with a slight underlying waver it gives you away. When you make eye contact with Gojo now, you see his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and a look in his eyes that brings that ache back between your legs.

“How about we change that then?” He poses his words like a question but there’s not even the illusion of a choice presented. He sits up a little straighter in his seat, the shorts on his thighs riding up just a bit, and pulls on your leg again.

“I…” The tips of your fingers are tingling, nerves firing off at every possible point as you follow his lead. Sitting up on your knees, Gojo is quick to shuffle you over to him. His hands on your hips help steady you as you settle across his lap, and they quickly wrap your arms around his neck when he senses hesitation from you.

“Just let me do all the work, okay?” He whispers, voice just loud enough over the movie still playing in the back. His hand spreads across your lower back, pushing you closer to the apex of his legs. With a hand on the back of your head, he pulls you down to meet his lips.

Kissing Gojo was just as good as you imagined it to be. His mouth fit perfectly against yours, sliding on your skin and making your eyes fall shut. A soft groan leaves your mouth the longer he’s pressed against you, and your fingers weave into his hair. It’s unclear how long this simple lip lock lasts until you become hungry for more.

Carefully, your lips part. There’s a part of your brain that’s screaming out about your lack of experience, desperate to preserve your dignity and not make a fool of yourself. Pushing past that, the tip of your tongue presses against Gojos closed mouth.

“I thought I said to let me do the work.” Pulling away from you, Gojo clicks his tongue. “Such an eager little girl, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” Keeping your eyes closed, you nod breathlessly. Shifting on his lap, you fully seat yourself onto him. With your ass pressing onto his legs, you can feel something hard and hot just out of reach in his pants.

With a chuckle Gojo kisses you again. Readjusting his grip on your head, he tilts it to the side and opens his mouth. He doesn’t need to do much more besides that and your mouth is already open. His tongue slides into your mouth at the same time his hand grabs your ass, and you moan because of both of them.

Instinct takes over any thoughts in your brain, all the worry and doubts you had dashed away. On shaky legs, you rut your hips forward onto Gojo, the friction catching on your clit. His tongue has barely made a home for itself in your mouth, and here you are humping him.

Letting go of your head, both hands clamp down on your ass. He forces you to slow down to an almost complete stop and he swallows the whine that comes out of your throat. Securing his feet onto the floor, Gojo gently pushes his hips up while he rocks you forward, and the noise you let out is one he will never forget.

The pace he sets is agonizingly slow, nothing like the one you’d had. Every brush of your body against his has your skin erupting in goosebumps and heat flashes across your body. Fingers tug his hair harder when the grip on your ass gets tighter, and you nearly throw yourself onto him more than you already have.

You don’t even realize the tiny little whimpers coming out of your mouth in a steady rhythm until they turn to wanton moans, a clunky sound you’re unsure about but make all the same. Gojo makes sound too, a deep grumble in his chest that manages to outdo you.

Time is lost with your lips against his. The movie that’s playing has long been forgotten, playing to an audience of no one. It’s soundtrack is a distant entity, muffled by the ringing in your ears and the heat accumulating between your bodies.

“G-gojo.” You pull back with a face hot as fire and eyes closed softly. A plea is on the tip of your tongue, and although you don’t know what you want, you’re ready to beg for it all the same. Gojo chases your lips, capturing them again for another searing kiss that makes you feel drunk.

He hums when he finally sets you free, the cool air from his nose fanning over your face. Forcing his body to relax, Gojo lets go of your ass and drops his hands to his sides. Letting his head fall back onto the couch, he blinks owlishly at the ceiling.

“Would you look at the time, it’s past your bedtime.”

“What?” Turning to look at the clock on the wall, your blood runs cold when you see what time it is. Grabbing his limp hands, you try to put them back on your body. “No, no forget about that.”

“I can’t. Little girls need to go to sleep when it’s time.” Gojo is fighting back a vicious smirk, forcing his face to remain as neutral as he can.

“Gojo, no!” You cry, bouncing on his lap like a child. His body remains limp as you attempt to engage him in another kiss, and frustrated tears rise in your eyes. “C’mon!” Your eyes flicker between his and you nearly throw yourself off his lap. “This isn’t fair!”

“Throwing a tantrum? I thought you were more mature than that.” Standing up and stretching his impossibly long limbs, Gojo clicked his tongue and flicked the TV off.

“Whatever.” Head clouded with lust and pent up frustration, you stormed out of the room much to Gojos pleasure. He followed after you slowly, stopping in the hallway when you get to your door.

“I don’t get a kiss goodnight?” He teases, and if looks could kill he’d be dead by now. The pout on your lip is almost negated by your puffy eyes straining to hold back tears. Laughing under his breath he walks up to you and pats your head. “Sleep well, little girl.”

“Yeah.” Nodding your head, you close your door and all but fall into bed. Your whole body is tense and unable to relax, the throbbing between your legs too much to ignore. Stripping down and crawling defeatedly under the blankets, you stare up at the dark ceiling.

Curling your fist, you punch the bed twice before shoving a hand between your legs. Your cunt is soaked all from a little bit of kissing, and in any other circumstance you’d be embarrassed. But this time, the only thing you could feel was an indescribable need to touch yourself.

Biting your lip hard between your teeth, your legs spread a little to accommodate the new arrival. There’s slick coating your skin, making everything a sticky mess. Inexperienced fingers press against your swollen clit and you gasp loudly.

“Shit.” A whine leaves your throat at the first touch, and your fingers rub clumsily along yourself. Pushing your head back against the pillows you try to recreate the feeling of grinding on Gojos lap. Every so often that spark hits you, but it’s not enough to get off to.

Slowly, you push a finger inside yourself, and then two. With a strain in your wrist you know you’ll feel tomorrow, you thrust your fingers in and out of your cunt. The wet clicking sound of your fingers is unmissable and you're quickly brought to a messy, uncoordinated orgasm.

“Shit.” You swear again, finally able to relax your body. Wiping your fingers on your blankets, you toss and turn to get into a comfortable position. The orgasm you had brought you some reprieve, but in the back of your mind you know it would have been better if Gojo had done it.

Waking up in the morning with the mess between your legs makes a wave of second hand embarrassment wash over you. Dressing quickly, it’s both a relief and a disappointment that Gojo has work during the day, early enough that you don’t see him in the morning.

Eating breakfast and lunch alone, there’s still a feeling in your body that won’t dissipate. The ache between your legs isn’t as strong as last night, but it’s still there, sitting in your body and ruining your underwear.

Your eyes keep staring at the clock, counting down the minutes until Gojo returns. There were other things you could have been doing, things that were more productive with your time, but every time you tried to move on it was impossible to focus and you found yourself back in the same spot.

When Gojo was nearly home, you sprung into action with a half baked plan. He’d texted you asking if you wanted takeout again or a home cooked meal, and you replied immediately that you would be cooking dinner. The only incentive you had to cook was to show him how responsible you were, and to make up for your show of emotions last night.

“(Y/N), I’m home!” Gojo announced as he opened the door. Toeing his shoes off, he waited for an answer or for you to appear before him, but he was left alone in the entryway. Walking past the lounge room, you weren’t there, and he was surprised to find you in the kitchen.

“Hi.” Giving him a quick wave, you kept your attention on the stove. His gaze lingered on you, a half smile on his face, but Gojo said nothing and left the room. You could hear him moving around the house, going to his room and changing into casual clothes and using the toilet before returning to you.

“So, what’re you making?” Standing close to you on the stove, he leaned over your body. His head brushed your temple and your breath hitched.

“J-just something easy.” You squeaked, painfully aware of how his hands settled onto the counters, trapping you against the stove and his body. He hummed but made no other response, and you just stood there together.

“Ya know, it’s kinda like you’re my little housewife, cooking for me after a long day of work.” His comment made you gasp. A million different scenarios ran through your head, all of them where you really were his wife in a house you shared together.

Keeping your lips pressed together to spare the sanity you had left, you nodded as a response. Gojo chuckled and got closer, placing his hands on your hips. Jumping when you felt his nose brush against your neck, you couldn’t move a muscle to question him.

“Having you as a housewife doesn’t sound too bad, now that I think about it.” His breath was loud in your ear, and so was the kiss he planted behind it. His teeth scraped against your neck, and he sucked lightly on your skin before letting you go. “Looks like it’s almost ready. I’ll go set the table.”

As soon as Gojo untangled himself from you, you let out a staggered sigh. With shaky fingers you turned the stove off and took the food off the heat, your eyes glued to the pan so he wouldn’t see your mortified face. Bringing the food to the table quickly, you stared at the table as you ate.

“So, do you like it?” You asked when he was more than halfway done.

“I do.” Propping his elbow on the table, Gojo flashed you a big smile. “I love whatever my little housewife makes for me.” Slapping a hand over your face in embarrassment, you sunk into your chair when he let out a laugh at your expense.

When dinner was over, Gojo insisted on helping you clean up. Rolling up his sleeves and pressing his body right against your back, he promised to do a good job washing the dishes, but he kept grabbing your hand and tangling your fingers together. By the time you finished, nearly an hour had passed and the ache between your legs was killing you.

“Come sit and watch the game with me.” He mumbled, grabbing a beer from the fridge and going to the lounge room.

“What game?” You followed him obediently, standing next to the couch as he took a seat.

“Baseball. I placed a few bets on tonight's game and I wanna win.” Cracking open the can, he took a long drink. “Come sit down.” Spreading his legs, he pat his thigh loudly.

“Okay.” Hesitantly climbing onto his lap, your hands gripped his arm as he pulled you flush against him. Gojos' chin rest on your shoulder, making you lay on his chest and feel every time he drew a breath.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day.” He whispers once a commercial hits.

“R-really?”

“Mhmm.” The arm around your middle tightens up. “Been thinking about kissing those pretty lips of yours.” You tried to turn your head to look at him, but he wouldn’t budge. Squirming in his lip made him groan, the vibrations traveling across your back. “What’re you doing, little girl?”

“I wanna kiss you.” At your admittance, Gojo lets you go and helps you turn around in his lap. The position is a familiar one, and your ass nestles against his thighs. Going in for a kiss, your brows furrow when he dodges your lips.

“Once there’s a pause in the game I’ll kiss you.” He says off-handedly, pushing your face out of the way.

“But-”

“Shh.” With a pinch to your ass, Gojo shuts down any protest. The same frustration you felt last night was coming back, coupled with annoyance at being ignored. You tried again to kiss Gojo, but he dodged you again.

“Fine.” Pinching him back, you practically collapsed in his lap. Watching the game over your shoulder, you truly couldn’t care less about it, but you needed to know the second there was a break.

But it seemed like there would never be one. Even when a commercial came, Gojo would keep your head pressed against his chest, stopping you from doing anything other than trying to wriggle out of his grasp.

“Gojo!” You cried, growing frantic. “Stop being mean!”

“Mean? I would never be mean to you.” He gasped dramatically. Letting you sit up, the smirk he had on his face had your fingers itching to slap him. Grabbing your chin, he pursed your lips and finally kissed you.

The taste of the beer on his tongue was something you could ignore when it entered your mouth. Getting what you wanted at last was the only thing on your mind. Your hands found their spot in his hair again, and you kept him pressed to you even when he tried to pull away.

“Someone’s needy, huh?” Gojo chuckled, finally able to break free and breathe.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day too.” The words fell out of your mouth before you had the chance to think.

“Oh, really?” Gojo quirked a brow. Resting his head in his hand, he licked his lips. “Tell me what you’ve been thinking then.”

“Uhm…” Suddenly feeling shy, you look down at his lap. You can see the outline of his cock straining against his pants and it makes you lick your lips. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you and-” A quick glance up makes your face flush with heat. “And about how you make me feel.”

“How’s that?” He presses, sliding a hand to your ass.

“I get all hot and sweaty, and that place starts to hurt.” Your hand does a vague gesture down to your crotch and it makes Gojo chuckle.

“That place? Do you mean your pussy?” Screwing your eyes closed at his question, you nod. Gojo lets out a little coo, his fingers affectionately squeezing your ass. “You poor baby, I bet it’s just a mess down there.”

“Yeah.” Spreading your legs further across his lap, you try to get comfortable with the wetness that had pooled in your underwear.

“What a shame.” Gojo clicks his tongue, and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you again. But then his eyes dart to the TV and his body tenses. “Oh shit, I think I might win this game!”

“Huh?” Blinking rapidly, you shift again on his lap and look over your shoulder. Whatever was happening had his full attention, and not even your kisses along his jawline can draw him back to you.

Gojo keeps you seated on his lap for the entirety of the game, every so often kissing you like you wanted, just enough to keep you from leaving but not enough to satisfy you. When the game is over, he repeats the process of yesterday and sends you to your room for your bedtime.

Waking up the next morning is a struggle after being blue balled for two days straight. It was like the release you’d given yourself the first night meant nothing because it wasn’t done by Gojo. Stumbling into the kitchen in a shirt and shorts, you bumped straight into Gojo.

“Hey sleepy head.” He ruffles your hair affectionately, his eyes quite obviously staring right at your ass skirted by the hem of your shorts.

“Hey.” Leaning your head against his chest, you give him a sleepy hug.

“Still tired?” Gojo feigns like he’s interested in whatever you have to say while his hands go under your shirt. The pads of his fingers press into your lower back for a moment before sliding up.

Leaning back a little, you move your arms out of the way for him to bring his hands to your front. His palms cup your breasts, just as hot as your flesh. Grazing your nipples with his thumbs, Gojo hums to himself and nods.

“Can I see?” Gojo asks, slowly tugging up your shirt.

“Yeah.” You nod. He folds up your shirt and pushes the fabric into your mouth, letting go when you bite down. Your fingers are holding up the rest of your shirt, and Gojo squeezes your arms together, making your breasts push together.

“What pretty tits you have.” Leaning down, Gojo presses a kiss to the center of your chest, and another atop both breasts. You’re quick to say a muffled thank you and Gojo kisses you again. His nose is pressed onto your chest and it’s all he can do to pull away and pull your shirt out of your mouth. “Do you want some breakfast?”

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” You ask instead, blindly finding a seat at the dining table.

“I’m going in a little later today for a meeting.” Stepping up to the stove, Gojo sweeps his arm over the assorted ingredients he’s set out. “Now, do you want an omelette?”

When Gojo returns home the next few days after work, it’s either long after your bedtime or he’s too tired to do anything more than go to bed. He was caught up in meetings and late night work functions, leaving no time or energy to spend with you. When the weekend finally comes, you don’t even see him until the evening.

“Hey.” He opens his bedroom door the moment you open the bathroom door, a cloud of steam billowing out around you.

“H-hey.” Caught off guard by his sudden appearance, you grip the towel tighter to your body. His eyes flick down to your skin, slightly damp and smelling sweetly of your body wash. Your body moves on it’s own when he takes a step forward, pressing yourself against the doorframe.

“It’s been a while.” He’s in front of you in just a few short strides. Lithe fingers trace your neck, making you shiver as a tingle goes through you. His hand cups your face, turning it up to him. “I’ve missed you, little girl.”

Gojo kisses you before you have time to answer. What usually starts as a gentle kiss is far gone, replaced with a hunger behind his lips that leaves you trembling. His tongue slides into your mouth with ease, roaming all around your mouth while his teeth clink into yours.

Your thighs are spread apart by his knee shoving between them, and your fingers nearly drop the towel to grab onto him. His knee is pressed right against your cunt, grinding deliciously onto you.

“Gojo!” You gasp when he lets you free. Air rushes into your lungs and is expelled just as fast. His teeth sink into the side of your neck, sucking hard on the skin and lapping up any lingering water droplets. “Gojo, please, I-”

“I know.” He grunts, sucking on the junction of your neck and shoulder. A rough groan leaves his lips and his knee drops, replaced by the hard on straining against his pants. Rough hands rush to bundle up your towel around your hips.

“Fuck, look at you.” Gojo growls, his eyes staring directly at your cunt. “What a pretty little pussy.”

“Gojo!” Throwing your head back, you nearly sob his name when he ruts his hips into you. His hands are digging marks into your hips and thighs with every thrust, and if it weren’t for his body holding you up, you would have crumpled to the floor.

All the sensations are too much, mounting pleasure in your body that threatens to take over. One hand is mindlessly clutching the towel, needing something to ground you in the moment that’s quickly getting away from you.

“Shit.” After sucking a harsh mark into your skin, Gojo stops completely. He stands painfully still, his own orgasm nearly barreling over him. Wrenching his hands off your body, he fixes your towel and takes a tiny step back. Licking his lips, Gojo runs a hand through his hair.

“W-why’d you stop?” Looking up at him with wide eyes, your chest is heaving as you catch your breath.

“I don’t want to blow my load right now, that’d be kind of embarrassing don’t you think?”

“I guess.” At a loss for words, you watch helplessly as he takes another step back. The tent in his pants is painfully obvious. “So when? When can we…” Your eyes bounce around the room, skirting around the question.

“Soon, I promise.” Adjusting his pants, Gojo flicks his head to your bedroom. “Now go get dressed, wouldn’t want you to catch a cold standing out here.”

It’s nearly three days before Gojo kisses you again. He doesn’t kiss you, but he does everything else to you that he wants to do. Shoving you against the wall and fondling your ass before he leaves for work. Grabbing at your tits when you’re cooking or washing dishes. Making you perch your ass on his lap when he’s watching another baseball game, his fingers drawing patterns on your thighs.

“Gojo!” Finally, it’s your turn to corner him in the hallway. Blocking his way to the rest of the house, you cross your arms and fix him with your strongest glare.

“Yes?”

“I need you!” Stamping your foot, you know it looks childish, but you need to get your point across. Biting his lip, Gojo steps up to you, giving you a once over.

“Need me how?”

“You know how!” His question shakes your confidence a little, enough to make you break eye contact with him and look at the wall.

“I don’t think I do.” Rocking on his heels, Gojo shrugs dramatically.

“Like- like-” Dropping your arms, you do the only thing you know will work: you shove your hand onto his crotch, palming at his cock and making him jump. “Like this!”

“Woah, little girl.” He’s quick to grab your wrist, but he doesn’t pull your hand away.

“Please!” The whine you’d been fighting back comes out, and it’s music to Gojos ears. “You always do stuff and it makes me feel funny and I really need you.” The frustration makes tears well in your eyes as you look up at him, and he pouts his lip at you.

“Oh poor baby.” Taking your hand away from him, Gojo turns to your room. “Let’s go then. Seems I’ve been playing with you too long.” Rushing to your room, you sit eagerly on the edge of your bed. “Lay down.” He gently pushes your shoulder back, and your head hits the pillow.

Climbing on top of you, Gojo nestles his body against yours and kisses you. Gripping his shoulders tightly, you pull him down harder. The drought he’d put you through had driven you crazy, causing you to dream about his lips on you.

His tongue slid into your mouth quickly, tangling with yours and knocking his teeth with yours. The tips of his fingers skirted around the edge of your shirt for just a moment before delving deeper. Sliding his hand under your bra, Gojo tweaked your nipple.

Making quick work of your shirt, Gojo sat on his heels and peeled his top off. Your eyes were glued to his body, catching every little twitch of his muscles and dip and curve of his chest. He chuckled at your mesmerized face and leant down, taking your nipple into his mouth.

Grabbing your other breast, Gojo worked both your nipples to full hardness, alternating on sucking them into his mouth. The moans that came from your mouth were music to his ears, and your hips blindly rutted against him.

Flicking your nipples with his tongue one last time, Gojo kissed down your chest. Reaching your bottoms, he didn’t need to tell you to lift your hips up, your hands were already pulling them off with him.

“Shit.” Gojo breathed, laying between your legs. Your inner thighs and cunt were covered in your slick, and the heady aroma had Gojo eager to stick his tongue inside you. Sliding his hands underneath your thighs, he set them on his shoulders.

Spreading your lips with his thumbs, Gojos tongue flicked your clit, making your hips nearly shoot off the bed. Your hands immediately wound into the sheets as he continued his ministrations.

“Gojo, please.” You cried, growing tired of the little flicks he was giving you.

“Be patient, baby.” He replied, quickly sucking your clit into his mouth. Your thighs tried to close around his head but his hold on your body was strong. Digging his hands into you, Gojo pulled your cunt closer to his mouth.

Shoving his tongue into you, Gojo lapped tirelessly at your gummy walls, loudly swallowing your essence mixed with his saliva. His nose rubbed your clit, relentless in his pursuit in tasting you. Muffled groans came from his mouth, the vibrations adding to the pleasure.

Pressing his thumb against your clit, he rubbed it furiously. Gojos eyes were screwed closed as he worked you to your first orgasm, his jaw beginning to ache from the force he put behind his tongue.

“Gojo-” Your body tensed up as the orgasm hit you. The fingers gripping the sheets threatened to tear them, your nails digging dangerously into the fabric. A loud, drawn out moan left you and your eyes rolled back.

“Fuck yes, baby.” Gojo wrenched your thighs open and sat up on his elbow. His thumb on your clit didn’t slow down, milking you through your orgasm. When your body relaxed, Gojo shoved his fingers into you, too worked up himself to worry about stretching you out properly.

The two fingers he had inside you stuffed you more than your own fingers ever could. Your walls stretched to fit around the long digits, clenching hard around him. His thumb pressed against your clit again and he began to move his fingers in and out of you at a steady rhythm.

The overstimulation from your first orgasm gave way to pleasure the more he fucked you on his fingers. Gojos palm slapped against your sex with every thrust, mixing with your moans and echoing around the room.

The second orgasm came much quicker than the first, and it was tinged with pain at the edge of your senses. Letting out a loud groan at the feeling of your walls milking his fingers, Gojo pulled out and sat back, roughly ripping his shorts off and exposing his leaking cock to the air.

“Think you can take my cock, baby?” He asked, gripping his cock hard at the base.

“Yes, please!”

“Good answer.” Grabbing your hands, he placed them under your thighs and pressed them to your chest. “Be a good girl and hold your legs for me.” Eager to please, you got a good hold on your thighs and waited.

Both of you stared at his cock lining up with your slit. Taking his time, Gojo pushed the tip past the tight ring of muscle and thrust softly, slowly working you to take his whole cock.

“How does it feel?” He asked, laughing breathlessly.

“Strange.” Your answer made him laugh more.

“Am I the first one to fuck this pretty pussy?”

“Yeah.” A wicked grin spreads across Gojos face and he leans between your legs to kiss your forehead.

“This old man sure feels special.”

“You’re not old!” You gasp, loosening your hold on your legs. “Not at all!”

“Legs, baby.” He taps your hands and you quickly right yourself. Pressing his hands into the pillow beneath your head, Gojo forces your legs to bend a little more. “I’m a dirty old man compared to you.”

“No-” You go to protest again, but the sharp snap of his hips into yours cuts you off. Your head immediately falls back, exposing the column of your throat for Gojo to lean forward and kiss. He pulls back again, making sure you feel the full length of his cock before snapping forward again.

Gojo thrusts into you with no mercy, lust clouding his senses and any reason in his head. Your walls are so tight, they almost grip him enough to stop him from pulling out again. He’s waited so long to feel you wrapped around him, and now that he has you he doesn’t want to waste a single second.

His heavy balls slap against your ass with each thrust, adding to the cacophony of sounds mixing together in your room. Your slick is being fucked out of you and dripping down between your ass and onto his balls, creating a damp spot beneath you.

“Such a good little girl.” Gojo pants, cupping your face with his hand. Swiping his thumb across your lower lip, he grins when you take it into your mouth and suck hard on it. “Taking my cock so well, like you were made for it.”

“Mhmm!” Nodding, you let go of one leg to hold onto his hand, lacing a few fingers together. Pressing his thumb against your tongue, Gojo pulled your mouth open and pursed his lips. Letting his saliva drip down into your mouth, he felt a swell of pride watching you swallow it immediately.

Your hand slid off your leg, the sweat accumulating on your body making you lose your grip. With your feet dangling near Gojos head, he pressed a quick kiss to your ankle before digging his hands underneath your ass and angling your hips up.

“Fuck!” You squeal loudly at the new angle and your hands scramble to push against Gojos hips. “T-too much!” Gojo barks out a laugh and swats your hands away, pining one to your side as he pounds into you.

“Shit, how’d you get even tighter, little girl? I can barely pull out.”

“Gojo, please!” Tears begin to gather on your lashes from the onslaught of pleasure, and you let out a short yelp at feeling his fingers against your puffy clit. “Please, please it’s- fuck-” Your head thrashed against the pillows, unable to run away from the feeling.

“Be good and squirt on my cock.” Gojo growled. He was close to cumming himself, your cunt that he’d denied himself for so long was just as good as he imagined it to be. It was all he could do to make sure you came before he filled you to the brim with his cum.

“Stop I’m gonna- Gojo- pee, I’m gonna-” You babbled mindlessly, tongue falling out of your mouth and making drool coat your chin. Seeing your fucked out face had Gojos racing heart pounding even harder.

Hunching over, he forced your legs to nearly touch your head as he rutted into you. Barely pulling his cock out all the way, Gojo worked your clit in his fingers and was rewarded with a high pitched moan, akin to a scream in his ear.

“Fuck-” He grunted. The force of your orgasm was nearly pushing his cock out all the way, your juices gushing around him. Sinking his teeth into your leg, Gojo came inside your spasming cunt, fucking his cum out with yours.

You were nearly sobbing by the time he fully stopped thrusting. Your body ached all over, muscles that had been pulled taut were finally being released and allowed to relax. Gojo slid your legs off his shoulders as he panted for breath.

Slowly pulling out of you, he stared at his softening cock absolutely covered in your release. His entire lower region was glistening in the light of the room and the wet spot on the bed was much bigger now.

Sliding out of the room quietly, he returned with a damp towel. Quickly wiping himself, he gingerly wiped down your sex, letting out little giggles when your body twitched uncontrollably. Setting the towel to the side, he smiled down at you.

“Hey little girl.” His grin turned into a full toothed smile at seeing your dazed face, drunk off his fuck and cum. A dopey smile spread across your face and you lifted a tired hand to grab at his. Giggling bashfully, you pressed your face into the pillow to get away from his stare.

“What?” You asked, feeling your cheeks heat as he continued to look at you.

“Nothing, just looking at my pretty girl.” Squeezing your hand, Gojos eyes glance at the wet spot on the bed. “Ya know, it’s almost your bedtime, and I can’t have you sleeping in a wet bed.” Humming like you were following along, you giggled again when his hand squeezed your waist.

“What?”

“Are you listening to me?” Gojo chuckled, squeezing you again and making you jump. “Come sleep in my room with me.”

“Okay.” Helping you stand, Gojo led you to his bedroom. Even though it was the guest room, it felt like he had always lived in this room. It smelled of him, and his clothes were everywhere. Flopping onto the bed, you yawned as soon as your head hit the pillow. “Gojo.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m hungry.” Gojo snorted loudly and nodded. Helping you under the covers, he slid on a pair of shorts.

“Alright, I’ll get you a snack. Try to stay awake.” You give him a lopsided thumbs up that makes him snort again. Turning on his heels, he knows as soon as he comes back, you’ll be passed out and snoring into his pillow. And he’s right.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen scenarios

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 121: Record

"I found some weird box full of muggle stuff," Ron called, carrying said weird box out into the open living room that Hermione and Draco were working in since they had mandatory cleaning on Saturday mornings for everyone who lived in Grimmauld. "I don't even know what these are," he added, holding up flat, black circles with holes in the middle.

"They're records," Hermione replied, glancing up from the cabinet she was working on cleaning out. "They play music," she elaborated.

Ron made a face, "They're probably junk," he replied.

"What are?" Harry asked as he emerged from the creepy closet off of the kitchen, covered in spider webs.

"These records," Ron said, kicking the box with his toe.

"Oh," Harry said, making his way over, "Were they Sirius', do you reckon?"

"It says 'Lily Evans' on the side," Draco pointed out.

"Probably junk either way," Ron said.

Draco Malfoy had spent more than half of his life in love with Harry Potter. He might not have called it love when he was young but the older he got, the more clear it became that he had been a lovesick idiot for most of his life. He'd spent a lifetime memorizing every detail of that face. So he couldn't really be blamed for noticing the split second of hurt that flashed across Harry's face before he nodded, "Yeah. You're probably right. I'll just run them out to the bin."

"Let me," he said before he'd really formed a plan. "I've got all this to take out anyway," he said, gesturing to the box of junk that he'd weeded out this morning. "And we all know that Kreacher has less of a problem with it when I do it."

Harry gave him a little smile that Draco wondered if anyone believed was genuine. "Thanks," he said.

Draco levitated his box and the box of records and headed down toward the kitchen. When he was out of ear shot he murmured, "Kreacher," and the elf appeared.

"Yes, Master Draco?"

"Hi," he said, giving him a little nod, "Could you help me with something?"

"Anything!" he replied, nodding hard enough that his ears flapped.

"Could you hold onto this box for me?" he asked, gesturing to the box with the records.

"Of course," he said, immediately taking the box and disappearing.

Draco nodded in satisfaction and started plotting how he'd learn enough about records that he could help Harry use his mother's.

(Read more below the cut)

Two weeks later, on another Saturday morning cleaning day, he still hadn't made much progress. Luna had actually been the most helpful but he hadn't any idea where to find a record player.

But as luck would have it, one turned up in the library, tucked in a cabinet behind some very dusty potion vials and a rusted old cauldron. "Kreacher," he whispered.

When he appeared he held out the record player and asked him to keep it with the records.

He felt quite pleased with himself now that he'd found the record player; he was certain that he'd be able to play records for Harry in no time.

-------------

It took a couple more weeks. Figuring out how to get electricity into the house was no easy feat (but it was easier once he found out that someone, Sirius he suspected, had done it before).

When Harry arrived home that evening, Draco dragged him into the living room, "Draco, what is going on?" he asked, laughing at him as he tried to get him to hurry up.

"I have something for you," he said, nudging him into the room and presenting the record player. "Ta da!"

"Err," Harry said, looking more closely at it, "What is it?"

"It's a record player," he said.

Harry's head whipped around so fast that it made Draco feel dizzy, "What?" he whispered.

"I found it," Draco said, "when I was cleaning in the library. And I thought you might," he shrugged and reached for the box of records, holding it out to Harry, "I thought you might want to listen to them."

The other man looked at him then down at the box in his hands, eyes wide as he reached out a trembling hand to brush his fingers over the spot where 'Lily Evans' was inscribed on the cardboard box. "You," he started before breaking off and covering his mouth with his hand. "I don't know what to say," he whispered.

His heart was full to bursting and he was pretty sure he'd never done anything as good as this in his life. "Would you like to listen to one?"

Harry looked up at him and nodded.

Carefully, he took out the record on the top and slipped it out of it's jacket, "Ella Fitzgerald," he said. "I've no idea who that is."

"Me either," Harry replied, coming closer to watch over Draco's shoulder as he set the record on the plate, turned the player on, and set the needle.

Music spilled forth entrancing them both, It's not the pale moon that excites me, that thrills and delights me, oh no, it's just the nearness of you.

"Wow," Harry murmured, watching the record spin. He turned to Draco, "I can't tell you what this means to me," he whispered. "Thank you."

He shrugged but couldn't quite keep the pleased smile from his face. "You're welcome."

Harry looked back at the record player before looking over at Draco again, "Do you want to sit and listen with me?"

He nodded, "I'd like that very much."

------------

It became something that the two of them did together fairly regularly after that. Sometimes they'd sit together and read while they listened to records, sometimes they'd talk while they listened, or catch up on work, or just listen together but it quickly became Draco's favorite pastime.

One Friday night while Ron and Hermione were out on a date, Ginny was away for a tournament, and Luna was working late, the two of them put on a record and ate dinner in the living room, continuing to drink wine while they talked and laughed long after their pasta was gone.

As the Bob Marley album, Exodus, came to an end, Draco stood up and made his way over to the box. "Etta James," he read, "At Last." He smiled and showed it to Harry, "look, she drew little hearts next to the song titles."

Harry smiled that melancholy sort of smile that made Draco ache inside. "Let's hear it, then."

Draco put it on for them and plopped back down on the floor in front of the sofa, his side mere inches away from Harry's, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off his body.

"I like this one," Harry sighed thirty seconds in as he leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. "Do you think they used to dance to this one?" he murmured wistfully.

Draco's heart clenched painfully as he was overwhelmed by the sense of loss that Harry must feel constantly. He had to take a slow deep breath before he responded. "Maybe," he whispered back.

The corner of Harry's mouth curled up in a soft smile, "I think they liked to dance," he murmured. "Hagrid gave me a picture of the two of them dancing together when I was at Hogwarts."

"Yeah?" he asked, hoping Harry would say more about that.

Harry nodded, "They looked really happy, you know?" he said. "Like they were the only two people in the world, like they weren't in the middle of a war," he sighed. "I like to imagine both of them dancing with me when I was a baby," he confessed in a whisper, "when I was crying or something. I like to imagine that the love that saved my life was tangible all the time, you know?" he murmured.

"I'm sure it was," Draco said softly.

He leaned over and rested his head on Draco's shoulder and Draco hardly dared to breathe. After a moment Harry said, "Would you dance with me?"

"Yes," he breathed immediately. "Yeah, of course I would."

"Yeah?" Harry asked, sitting up slightly to look at him.

Draco nodded and stood up, reaching for Harry's hand and tugging him up after him. He kept Harry left hand in his right and wrapped his left arm around Harry's shoulder, leaving space for Harry's right arm around his waist.

The other man hummed softly, drawing Draco in a little closer and closing his eyes as they swayed around the room. Draco couldn't stop staring; at the way Harry's eyelashes were long enough that they brushed his glasses, at the tiny nearly invisible freckles that dusted his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, at the barely visible wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, at his lovely full lips, and the way his stubble looked against his skin.

I love you he couldn't help but think, over and over like it was a personal mantra, like it was the only thing that could keep him alive; he ached with it, with the desire to hold him, to kiss him, to tell him what he really thought of him, to build a life with him, to give him everything that he deserved to have.

Harry's eyes blinked open as the song came to an end, his brows furrowing slightly as he brought his hand up to cup Draco's cheek, "Are you alright?" he asked softly, wiping a tear that had slipped out.

"Merlin, sorry," Draco said, taking a step back to wipe his eyes. "Sorry. It's just your life has been so unfair and when I think about you not really knowing your parents and having to live with your shitty relatives, and-" he choked on the tears.

"Hey," Harry murmured, pulling Draco back into his arms and rubbing his back, "Hey, it's alright."

"It's not alright," he managed.

"Well, no," Harry agreed, "I suppose it isn't. But it's all past now," he said. "Now I have my friends and I live with people who love me and whom I love," he carded his fingers through the hair at the base of Draco's neck. "Ron and Hermione, Luna and Ginny," he swallowed, "you."

"I just wish," he started before breaking off because finishing that sentence would be showing far too much of his hand.

Harry drew back slightly to look at him, "What?"

His eyes were so open, so earnest that Draco couldn't help himself. "I wish you'd let me love you the way you deserve to be loved."

The other man blinked, "What do you mean?"

"Promise me that nothing changes if you don't like what I have to say," he said, clenching his fingers in Harry's t-shirt.

"I promise. You're one of my best friends, Draco," he assured.

He took a deep breath, "I'm in love with you," he finally managed. "And I just want to love you, all the time. I want to hold your hand, and dance with you, and make you laugh, and surprise you. I want so many things for you-"

"Me too," Harry interrupted. "I'm in love with you, too, I mean."

"Really?" he whispered, hardly daring to believe it, his eyes welling up with tears again.

"Oh, love," Harry said with a little smile, wiping Draco's eyes with his thumbs, "Yes, really. Come here," he said, pulling him in closer and swaying to the music, letting Draco cling to him as they moved together.

As they continued to dance, Harry started to tell him all of the things that he dreamed about for the future together. Painting a picture of the beautiful life they could have and after a few minutes, Draco joined in, adding bits of his hopes as well.

They stayed up late into the night, talking and dreaming of the life they wanted to give each other. And every time they fought after that, one of them would get out the record player and they'd dance together and remind each other of the lives they wanted to build.

----------------

Day 120: Tough | Day 122: Moon

#100 drabbles in 100 days #one year of drarry drabbles #drarry #drarry ficlets #drarry drabbles #fluff #pining #like a lot of pining #boys in love #love confessions #acts of love #this one got away from me #but I sort of love it #getting together #friends to lovers

[chipper-smol]

Hollow Knight Telephone Round Two: Vanilla Chain 1

Prompt: Ghost remembers each time they died and that’s how they’ve progressed through challenges most bugs wouldn’t even dream achieving. However, no one else seems to remember and instead they wonder why Ghost reacts badly to simple casual touches.

By @ink-of-void

A dull drone of rain pattered down across the cool stone below. The rain had only served as a buffer to the dull, passive steps of the bugs in the city, or the ever so gentle wing beats in the distance. Occasional creaks and groans would whine from the structures of the city, begging for maintenance or to finally be allowed rest. Each sound, each moment only served to further cement itself in the cacophony of white noise. A symphony of empty sound that echoed into the city's ambience.

It had been hours since the Ghost had stopped in front of the statue. Its small head tilted upwards to face that of the stone, carved to the likeness of its sibling. The inscription below spoke of sacrifice. An Eternal sacrifice. It was almost ironic. How the one forced to suffer was put on display at the apex of the ‘City of Tears’.

Memories began to rise, welling up and bubbling in its shell. They could remember their sibling screaming. How the sound of their cries echoed on deaf ears, or that easing their pain meant rending their own flesh in a desperate attempt to stop the torture. It was a waking nightmare.

They had failed their sibling. Try as they might, time and again, they could not bring it upon themselves to strike that final blow. The cries of the ‘Hollow Knight’ screeching into the black egg as they faded away from consciousness for the umpteenth time. A pang of discomfort manifested in their shell.

Slowly Ghost’s mind went from just their sibling to all the other bugs. Each one of those who slaughtered Ghost without mercy, killed with reckless abandon, or just proved to best them in combat. They were the ones it had defeated in the past. Bugs that had caused them to relive the same ritual of failure repeatedly before finally earning that place of victory. Every misstep, every badly timed jump, every poorly executed attack, It all ended in the same punishment over and over. 
CRaCK.

The pain was almost palpable just thinking about it.

It felt just as new as the first time they were ever defeated. A cold sting of its shell cracking, body being torn limb from limb, crumbling beneath them like old stone. Void spilling from its head and pooling into a free floating shape among those lost to the sickness or those who simply proved superior. Though, the empty feeling of losing its corporeal flesh paled in comparison to what came next.

It was like floating up into an entropy of empty space and confusion. The dark land was void of any life or warmth, disorienting all that passed into its wake. Yet every time, it would be waiting to welcome the vessel back again and again into its crushing, desolate embrace. It felt itself being split in two, one being given back to the world, while the other was forced to remain in limbo until it was saved. But it wouldn't matter, as they would re-awaken only moments later, sitting patiently on a bench back where they started.

The overwhelming sense of exhaustion and dissonance took a toll each time they came back. Missing half of their being and having to fight themselves just so they can regain the broken piece back. All the while, no one else seems to take notice, or even remember what had happened prior. Hundreds of failures, hundreds of deaths, and Ghost could never seem to get used to it. It truly was a burden, one that Ghost often sought refuge from by simply resting a while longer at the bench.

It was a dance with death that always ended in what could be considered a ‘mercy’. The lack of claim to its shade, allowed them yet another chance. But perhaps mercy wasn't the right term. Having to battle your own face, a fragment of your own being… it hardly seemed kind, or fair. Even after returning the shade to its rightful place, the fight wasn’t over. Most of the time, it was only just beginning. There would be no rest. There was never any rest.

However to the spider in red, this tiny bug formed of the void and pale, felt nothing as it cut down everything from vermin to gods. Acting as if death was simply part of a long list of chores, they made it seem effortless. So when she first responded to Lemm’s call, she would be lying if she didn't find it the slightest bit odd that Ghost was simply standing idle. She reached out to them, barely grazing their back with her fingers. “Ghost?-”


Without another moment passing, the vessel whipped around, nail in hand. The slash was quick, the sharp song of the blade ripping through the air as Ghost’s reaction went into motion. Time seemed to slow for a moment, its blind attack not revealing the consequence of its actions before it was far too late. Ghosts cloak finally revealed the bug into its immediate view. Upon seeing the figure, their body tensed, hanging onto the blade with an iron grip. 


Hornet didn’t even realize what happened until she glanced down at her arm. Seeing the deep blue blood dripping from the new slice in her shell was telling enough. It was nothing more than a surface wound if she was honest. Easily fixed with time and bandages. But that wasn’t her concern at the moment. Letting her hand close, she looked over to Ghost with a worried expression.

The vessel stood ready, both hands on its nail as it simply held the weapon in place. A tiny shake was visible at the end of the nail it was brandishing. Their face held no expression, yet its body told Hornet all she needed to know.

“Little Ghost?” She asked quietly, holding up her hands to show she wasn't a threat. “Are you… alright? Lemm asked me to come check on you. He says you’ve been here for hours now.”


Ghost paused for a moment, clicking its head towards Hornet. Realization struck them, causing them to slowly lower their weapon. Their gaze fell to the floor as the nail hit the stone sidewalk with a light clink. Their blade’s shimmering reflection bounced back to the vessel's sockets. Part of it was stained with the blood of their sister, obscuring some of the brilliant reflection. The water occasionally dripped down and cut the image in two, washing away the blood as it did.

Hornet sighed, going over to them and gently knelt down.

“Is something the matter, little Ghost?” the spider chimed softly, going over to touch their shoulder. Ghost recoiled, pulling their shoulder away in a rather aggressive manner. Their head didnt lift, turning instead to focus on their path. They put their nail on their back and began their leave. The spider stood up after a moment, bowing her head with a little shake as Ghost began to disappear


“Even you need to rest sometimes, little one. Please I’m, try to get some.”

-------------------------------

By https://twitter.com/Hell_Yena

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By @nonbinary-ghost​

Rain patters down against your shell like thousands of tiny, icy stones. The drum of it inside your mask and the prickling of it against your small body would normally be unpleasant enough as to be overwhelming; but lost as you are in your thoughts and the twisting waves of emotion trying to drown you, the rain is scarcely enough to ground you. You feel disconnected and distant, as if you aren’t really in control of your body, merely being carried along by the steady movement of your legs.

You gradually realize that you have been wandering like this for a while now. How long, you can scarcely guess, but long enough that your cloak is soaked through, and any scrap of warmth has left you. Dirtmouth had been celebrating the first twelve span of being free of the Infection, and while you had been just as happy as the next bug about the recovery of the town, the celebration had filled you with a nameless, twisting dread. And then all the lights and the sounds and the smells and the touching had left you reeling and sick. So you ran.

It could have been hours since then. You have no way of knowing. You don’t quite remember deciding to come to the City of Tears either. You just let your thoughts blur into a black haze, pointed your mask to the ground, and let your feet carry you wherever they wanted to go. You hadn’t expected to find yourself standing before the statue of your sibling. You simply realized that you were staring blankly at the inscription along the statue’s base.

“Through its sacrifice, Hallownest lasts eternal.” Something hot and prickly bubbles up inside of you at the words, making your shell itch and crawl like when you fall in acid. Hornet had once explained the feeling as anger. Why are you angry? You puzzle over it for a moment, resisting your initial urge to strike at the plaque with your nail and scratch out the offending inscription. Instead, you read over it again, feeling the anger boil deep in your belly.

Sacrifice. That’s the part that makes you angry. Sacrifice implies choice. Hollow had no choice in sealing the Radiance. You hadn’t had any choice. None of your siblings had any agency over anything that happened to them. No, none of you were giver the choice to make sacrifices – you were the sacrifice. And for what? Hallownest still fell. So many bugs died, so many cultures were consumed by the plague and lost to dust and rot. All of your siblings, but Hollow and Hornet especially, still suffered and struggled. Yes, you had eventually killed the Radiance, but that hadn’t been part of the Pale King’s plan. He didn’t even know about Godseeker, didn’t even consider that there might be another way that didn’t involve condemning his child to an eternity of suffering. No, your “Father” had expected all of you to “sacrifice” yourselves to the seals and suffer in silent mystery to keep the Radiance contained. How dare he imply any level of choice in what happened to your siblings.

“Ghost?”

The soft question yanks you painfully from your thoughts and you feel as if you slam back into yourself. You are suddenly very aware of the rain hitting your mask, of your hands clenched into fists.

Of the dark shadows that had begun to flicker like flames around you receiving back into you. You spin to find Hornet standing on one of the nearby signposts, her red cloak so damp it nearly looked brown and her needle poised as if prepared to zip away at any moment.

“Are you alright?” Her stance relaxes somewhat as the shadows fade. You don’t know how to answer, so you simply turn away. You look up at your sibling’s likeness looming over you, proud, regal, poised. Not at all like the desperate, brutal Pure Vessel you were forced to fight in Godseeker’s Pantheons. Not at all like the sick and injured bug that you freed from the black egg temple after killing the Radiance.

“Do you need to be alone?”

You shrug. The happiness and celebration in Dirtmouth had been overwhelming, and you had wanted to be alone then. But now, a part of you mutters discontentedly. You’re lonely, and maybe Hornet of all people could understand these feelings. She was the only one besides Hollow who might. “I’m angry,” you sign, pointing at yourself and making a sharp gesture with both hands. Hornet has slowly been teaching you and Hollow the sign language used in the Hive, but none of you are all that good with it yet. It often requires body language and facial expressions for certain distinctions between similar signs – a difficult feat to accomplish when your face is a mask. Hornet follows your gaze and hops down to join you.

“About the statue?”

You point to the inscription.

“We didn’t have a choice,” you sign furiously. “We failed. And now what’s left?”

You stop, a dawning realization creeping through you. That was why you’re angry. Why you’re discontent even though by all accounts you had succeeded. You defeated the Radiance, ended the Infection, freed your sibling, and even survived channeling the Void Entity. You are free to do whatever you want now, but you slowly realize that this new freedom is what has you feeling so distant. You and your siblings were all created with a purpose, and now, with that purpose gone, you have nothing left. You have no other skills but fighting. No passions, no home, no culture to rebuild. You and Hollow are free, but now what is left for you? Your Father had sacrificed your futures, not just your lives, and now you are feeling lost and separate from the bugs around you. They had all suffered through the plague, lost loved ones and homes. But they had passions and dreams to guide them and give them hope. You only have nightmares that keep dragging you into the past, making it impossible to look forward to the future.

“Who am I supposed to be, now?” you finish limply. The anger is gone, replaced with a choking sorrow. Your breathing feels thick and heavy. Hornet holds out a hand, hesitating before touching you to make it an offer, and you lean into it, letting her hand rest lightly between your shoulders.

“What the Pale King did, what he demanded of all of us, was unjust,” she said at last, an ember of her own rage warming her words. “There is nothing that can change that. You and Hollow and all the others deserved so much more. But Ghost,” she kneels so she can look into your mask with such honest ferocity that your breath hitches in your chest. “You are so much more than what our Father made you. You are not just a weapon or a tool. You never were. There is a future for us now, because of you. I know it will be had. It will be scary. Change always is. But we have each other – you, me, Hollow, all of Dirtmouth – we are all here to support each other. We are all learning and growing past everything that happened. I promise, none of us are going to leave you behind again.”

A tightness forms in your throat at her words and your vision blurs as that heaviness in your chest tightens. That promise to not be left behind again stirs a confusing blur of emotion that you can’t make any sense of. It doesn’t feel good, but it doesn’t feel bad either.

“Can I hug you?”

You nod and lean into her touch, the weight and warmth of your sister’s arms doing more to ground you that the rain. For once you feel … safe. Something inside you cracks, like an old shell you’ve grown too big for, and suddenly you’re crying. For everything you went through, for everything you lost, for everyone who didn’t survive to see the same light of freedom. You sob, clutching at Hornet’s cloak.

You finally let yourself mourn everything that brought you here.

And tentatively hope for everything that might come to be.

-------------------------------

By @brimal-baspid​

-------------------------------

By @martin-ftw​

The rain pours heavily in the city of tears.

The knight walks up to the fountain square. They look upon the fountain, where the Memorial to the Hollow Knight resides.

The knight inspects, "In the Black Vault far above. Through its sacrifice Hallownest lasts eternal." as Hornet dashes in with her needle.

"Again we meet little ghost." Hornet started, "... seek the Grave in Ash and the mark it would grant to one like you."

After finishing her guidance for the knight, she added, quietly, "Are you, perhaps, even a little, afraid?"

The water flows through the fountain endlessly, yet the knight remains emotionless.

Hornet giggles to herself, "hmmhmm, that's right, no voice to cry suffering, best of luck to your journeys little ghost."

After a few seconds of silence, Hornet raised her needle and hopped onto the ceiling.

The knight pauses, and dashes right to the opened door, leaving only the sounds of rain splashing the water fountain and flapping of wings from the lumaflies.

At the front door of the Pleasure House, the knight inserts the simple key and opens the door, walking in as Hornet follows. With the beautiful singing by Marissa, the knight goes on the long elevator ride as Hornet clings onto the elevator.

“About to learn your troubled past, aren't you little ghost?" Hornet asks inside the hot spring, while the knight sits on the bench.

The knight nods while opening their map and picking off one of those scarab markers, moving it to the bottom right of the map.

"Though I have underestimated your power, do you think you've got what it takes? To preserve the future of hallownest?" The knight does not know how to answer, they stand up from the bench and pack up their map.

"Exit's on the right, break the wall down to King's station," Hornet says while thinking to herself, could this one succeed? The knight swings their nail at the wall, breaking it open with a loud crack, and heads downwards.

Hornet sat in the spring by herself.

Guarding the cast-off shell is her job - she knows she has to fight the knight one more time, to ensure the knight is ready to finish their quest even after seeing their conception and past. She sighs, all rested, and stands up; knowing she's much faster than the knight in traversing the Hallownest, she raises her needle and swings out of the pleasure room, down to the Kingdom's edge she goes.

“Perhaps this one would be strong enough. They made it so far, don't fail me now little ghost" She quietly mumbles, before pointing her needle towards the entrance of the arena,

"So you'd pursue the deeper truth? It isn't one the weak could bear. Prove yourself ready to face it. I'll not hold back..."

With the wind blowing harder and louder in the edge of the world, the fight begins, the sentinel of a fading land and the vessel to save Hallownest.

-------------------------------

By @potentialforart​

-------------------------------

By @starstress​

They crouch, body full of tension, and they stare on ahead at their target. The platform is right there, waiting for them like a pedestal.

They jump.

Soaring through the air, quick and steady, they reach out, claws stretched and yearning.

There, they think. Right there.

And as the edge comes right by them, confidence blooms inside their chest, sure that they'll reach it. Their outstretched claws brush by a single tiny pristine leaf, one in a dozen, green and lush. It bounces right back into place as they are claimed by gravity.

They fall onto the lower platform, the moss softening their landing. They look up, and disappointment is a small bitter ball in their stomach, but they brush it aside. The stone edge they were aiming for now looms above them unforgiving. They will not let it discourage them, they will try again.

They want to know. They need to know. Who that red-clothed bug was, and why they felt such a pull to her.

----

Through stretching lush highways and seeming ceilingless and bottomless caverns, they push onwards. They’re spurred ever on by glimpses of rushing red, pale horns and swishing silk.

They would have expected the constant green to become monotonous by the time they reach a bench locked behind a gate, guiding them ever higher, but the shrub and moss-covered land surprises them still. From keeping them on high alert constantly and mercilessly, to undeniably charming them through towering leaf-embroidered architecture and statues, simple but beautiful blooms filling the air with glittering pollen, and soft chimes of birdsong, Greenpath has carved a spot in their heart that they can’t believe can ever be topped.

Still on they go, for though they wish to properly explore, they know that that can wait. They heal themselves, fill in the map with all the paths and twists and turns that they have crossed, put on the few charms that they have gathered, and stand up. They look ever upwards and hope they’re drawing closer to wherever the red-clothed person might be leading them.

----

There--

They rush forward, into the air and off the moss-covered stone ledge, eyes locked onto the red figure. Behind them, a gate slams closed, but though the sound echoes in the small clearing, they pay it no mind.

They land on steady feet, leaf softening the sound of their fall.

There she is--

They've found her.

The red-cloaked bug, in all her stern and decisive figure.

She is encompassed by engraved and moss-covered pillars of stone, but still she towers over them, despite only being about twice their own height.

Her dark eyes, but not as dark as theirs, no one with as dark as theirs, never, track their every move, ready to act, ready to cut down. They stare at her and she stares at them, a contest of wills.

She raises her blade - her needle - and they rush to mirror her.

Soft light streams down, from in between greenery, though they not know not its source, and halos her in pale light.  And though this is their first proper encounter with her, the red bug feels familiar, like they know her mask, the shape of her eyes, like they once gazed, even briefly, upon those features in a past life.

Nevertheless, her stance is rigid and unforgiving.

No further, her eyes scream even before she deems them worthy of words, no further I will allow you, until you prove yourself.

They tighten their grip upon their nail, and shove back into their void all pangs of sadness. This is a fight for their life, and, more than ever, a fight for their existence.

Maybe, after they defeat her, they can ask her why she feels like family - lost, but found again.

-------------------------------

By @dovalore​

-------------------------------

By @jonsilverstone​

https://soundcloud.com/jachym-hajek/vanilla-1-july-21-jon-silverstone-hornet-v-hollow/s-8IcY8UIzrtg

-------------------------------

By @alaska-ren-works​

“Do you want to just fulfill the wyrm’s standards or do you want to make me proud, Princess of Hallownest?”

Hornet tightened her needle’s grip and lowered her stance. Heart calm and mind steady, she didn’t feel the rise of a subtle smirk on her face. This was her moment she had trained for in the Hive. Not to be the pale wyrm’s spawn, but to be the Daughter of Deepnest.

“You will see my answer soon, Mother.”

Weavers and bugs alike stood in solemn excitement as Herrah, Beast and Queen of Deepnest, circled the princess. Her white mask hid her emotions, but Hornet could more than feel the queen’s wide grin. Herrah twirled her own needle in her hand, a feat that impressed Hornet to no end as that very needle was longer than she was tall.

“Very well.” With a final step, Herrah faced Hornet with her needle at the ready. “You know the rules and so do I.”

Hornet nodded. As the lower-ranked of the two, Hornet must make the first move. Everyone and everything turned still. Watching. Waiting.

With a resolute bang of a drum, Hornet yelled, “Garama!”

The crowd roared with the start of the duel, but Hornet only heeded her opponent. She speared her needle forward and as Herrah jumped away, she reeled it back. Herrah dodged the attack and closed in on Hornet. The young spider darted away right before Herrah’s needle slashed through the space she just left.

When it came to brute strength, Hornet would lose in an instant. But she was smaller, faster, and more agile. If she could avoid a direct hit, she might have a chance at winning this.

Hornet rolled away as another strike whistled too close for her liking. She slashed her needle upwards, forcing Herrah to jump back. Taking this, she jumped into the air and released a storm of silk.

When her feet landed, Herrah slammed into her. Her breath wrenched out of her chest as she flew then skidded on the floor. It was a miracle she was still on her feet. With her head bent, she did not see the pride glimmer in her mother’s eyes before the queen composed herself.

Herrah’s head turned when the ravelling of silk sounded above her. The whistling of an incoming needle alerted her and the Beast parried Hornet’s thrust.

In Herrah’s moment of distraction, Hornet covered the arena in sticky silk traps. Now, this was where Hornet shines. She darted between the silk

strands and rushed at Herrah, the bigger spider now pressed for space. Strikes and slashes were landed and blocked, and Herrah growled. The next second Hornet rushed in, Herrah took hold of her and used her momentum to throw her far. Hornet flipped in the air but stumbled on her landing. Looking up, Herrah’s needle swung in a wide arc, destroying the nearby threads.

Mother and daughter studied each other from opposite ends of the arena. Hornet felt fatigue settle in her bones and her lungs struggled with big gulps of air. Herrah stood tall and her giant nail held steady, but Hornet could see her chest moving quickly.

“What do you think about heading over to the hotspring after this, huh?” Hornet’s eyes widened at Herrah’s invitation.

“Y-yes, Mother!” Hornet reddened at her stuttering voice. She cast out her exhaustion and readied her stance.

Herrah grinned as she raised her needle once more. “Then let’s make this worth it.”

#hollow knight #hollowknight #telephoneknight #vanilla #hornet #ghost

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Bedtime Stories

Penny (Stardew) x They/Them Reader

A/N: Woo! With this, I have completed a fic for all the Stardew Bachelorettes! Hope ya’ll are ready for Penny time! Word Count: 5,618

(Y/n) stretched their arms way above their head, reveling in the pulling of their back muscles and the dull crack of their spine. They had been out foraging all day and their pack was full of blackberries, mushrooms and nuts. A very good haul.

They shivered a bit as another breeze blew through. The skies had only gone dark about an hour ago, but (Y/n) was ready to call it a night and turn in to their warm and cozy farmhouse.

They walked up the dirt path past Marnie’s ranch to their farm, smiling when they saw the light of their house in the distance. The children must have been giving Penny a hard time tonight. Usually they’d be asleep before (Y/n) got home, but they could get restless on occasion.

As soon as (Y/n)’s boots thudded against the wooden stairs, they could hear excited cries from within, and soon a small head poked out from behind the front door before swinging it fully outward.

(Y/n) flung their arms out to catch the small body that flew into their legs, soon joined by a smaller, more clumsy one.

“You two are up rather late, you aren’t giving your mom a hard time, are you?” (Y/n) asked their children.

“Mommy said we could wait for you if we ate all our veggies at dinner so we did. We did good so we’ll grow up to be strong farmers like you!” The older of the two exclaimed.

“Oh yeah?” (Y/n) grinned.

“Yeah!” The younger child shrilled.

“Well, now that I’m here, it’s time for bed isn’t it?”

A duet of displeased noises met (Y/n)’s ears but they quickly devolved into giggles when the farmer attacked them with tickles. Once the children were disarmed, (Y/n) slung them over their shoulders and bounced them into the house, meeting the loving eyes their spouse gave them from the couch.

Penny sat in a pile of rumpled blankets no doubt put there by their rambunctious children. In her lap was a book of fairy tales that usually served her well when bedtime came around but tonight it seemed it was not enough.

“Hi, love. Welcome home.” Penny smiled sweetly, getting up to meet (Y/n) halfway. She hugged them around the middle before lightening their load by taking the smaller child off their hands.

“Hi sweetheart, how was your day?” The farmer asked, setting down their eldest child so they could remove their bag and boots.

“It went well. The children were so diligent with their studies. I was very impressed.” Penny said, making sure the kids were aware of how proud she was of their work.

“That’s great! I’m really proud of you two.” (Y/n) praised their children while they glowed with pride.

“So we can stay up late and watch tv?” The eldest asked hopefully, the parents merely laughed at the suggestion, making the children pout.

“Afraid not, sleep is very important and I think now would be a good time to hit the hay.” (Y/n) said, already trying to corral the kids into their bedroom.

“Not yet! We want a story at least!” The younger proclaimed, agreement was quickly voiced by their older sibling. Rarely it seemed they could come to a consensus so quickly.

“Oh? Well, I suppose one story wouldn’t hurt.” (Y/n) agreed. “Go brush your teeth first, please.”

The children toppled over each other, trying to get to the sink first so they could rush back to the living room.

“They have so much energy.” Penny remarked with a content sigh, leaning into (Y/n)’s side.

“No kidding,” (Y/n) chuckled, rubbing Penny’s arm, “I could have really used the extra help in my first year of living here. Now I’ve got auto-feeders and sprinklers. A little late for fall, but I suppose they could help with the spring planting, maybe that would slow them down a bit.”

“Shhh, it’ll be a long winter and I don’t need to hear, ‘is it spring yet?’, everyday before then.” Penny playfully warned.

“Your wish is my command.” (Y/n) nodded, pulling Penny down onto the couch to cuddle with her, making the teacher hum with delight and shyly steal a quick kiss.

A few minutes later, two bouncy young children crawled over their parents and wiggled into their sides and under the blankets with happy giggles.

“Alright kiddos, which one?” (Y/n) asked once they were all settled, patting the heavy book on their lap.

“We don’t want one of those stories tonight.” The eldest said.

“You don’t?” Penny blinked, confused by declaration.

“We want to know how you met each other and got married.” The eldest explained, the younger nodded along.

“It’s a long story kids.” (Y/n) said. They may have been trying to dissuade the children, but there really was a lot to cover. Seasons and seasons worth.

“What’s so long about it?” The younger child asked. “Didn’t you just know you liked each other so you got married?”

“People don’t get married right after they meet each other, honey.” Penny gently corrected.

(Y/n) definitely had a, ‘well, not usually anyway’, kind of look on their face but the warning look Penny gave them convinced (Y/n) to keep their mouth shut.

“Oh, I still wanna know though.”

“Me too!”

“(Y/n)...” Penny called upon her spouse.

“Okay, an abridged history, how ‘bout?” (Y/n) shrugged.

The children seemed content with that, once Penny explained to them what abridged meant, and looked to (Y/n) expectantly with shining eyes.

“Okay, it all started—“

“Once upon a time!” The youngest screeched, making everyone wince.

“Inside voices, dear.” Penny reminded.

“Sorry, but the story has to start with once upon a time.”

“It’s not a fairytale, you know.” The older said.

“It’s alright,” (Y/n) interjected with a grin, “it feels enough like one being married to such a sweet person.”

Penny turned away and blushed, a small bashful smile working the corners of her lips upward.

“Once upon a time...” (Y/n) began again, much to their youngest child’s delight.

***

“Oh my Yoba, this place is a mess.” (Y/n) groaned.

They had kept a brave face for Robin and Mayor Lewis, but now that they were gone, they voiced how overwhelmed they felt freely. They looked over the overgrown lot that was supposed to be the farm their grandfather had left for them.

“What if this was a mistake? Am I doing the right thing? I don’t want to crawl back to Joja but...” (Y/n) growled, thwacking the dirt hard with their hoe, “No! I just got here, I can’t quit yet.” They said, strengthening their resolve.

After a few hours of alternating between being proud with their progress and wanting to cry because there was so much left to do, (Y/n) decided they wanted to check out town. They just really needed to freshen up first.

To their dismay, but not surprisingly, the old farmhouse didn’t have indoor plumbing, but they didn’t worry because they knew there was a bathhouse in the mountains they could use.

“When I get paid, the first thing I’m gonna do is contract Robin to build a bathroom. I hope she’s as savvy with plumbing as she is with carpentry.” They mumbled to themself as they walked up the mountain path.

Entering the bathhouse, the space seemed void of life, the only sounds being the steady drip of water over the tiled floor. (Y/n) claimed a vacant locker and took a shower. After the day they had, it was the best shower they had ever had.

Once clean, (Y/n) decided they’d spoil themself and swim around in the heated pool for a bit before heading back to the farm. They put on their swimsuit and headed on in. Expecting to be alone, they hummed and sang as they made their way to the main room, enjoying the way their voice reverberated off of the walls and echoed back into their ears.

“Um, hello.”

“Wah!”

(Y/n) nearly slipped on the wet floor from the shock. A woman with vibrant, orange hair was sitting in one of the near corners of the pool. She seemed to shrink into herself under (Y/n)’s wide gaze.

“Oh wow,” (Y/n) laughed awkwardly, embarrassment flooding their tone, “I, uh, didn’t realize anyone else was here, sorry you had to hear that.”

“It’s alright,” the woman smiled albeit, a bit tightly it seemed. “I was thinking about getting out anyway.”

“You don’t have to leave!” (Y/n) fumbled with the towel in their hands, “I promise to be quiet and give you your space. It’ll be like I’m not even here.”

They skittered across the tiled floor and slid into the opposite side of the bath, giving the woman her space.

A few painfully awkward minutes passed. (Y/n) leaned over the pool edge and counted the nearby tiles, the bricks on the wall... anything to occupy them until the other occupant left or a non-suspicious amount of time passed and they could leave themself.

“Who... who are you?” The woman asked, finally breaking the silence.

(Y/n) craned their head to face her, eager to introduce themself and hopefully make a better impression.

“I’m (Y/n). I just moved in. I live at the old farmhouse just west of town so you’ll probably see me around from time to time.”

“Oh, I see,” the stiffness of the strangers shoulders seemed to lessen, “Well, I’m Penny. It’s nice to meet you.”

(Y/n) grinned brightly as they swam closer to Penny, all previous worries forgotten. “It’s nice to meet you too, Penny! I hope we will be great friends.” (Y/n) suddenly splashed the water beneath their hand as another thought popped into their mind. “Hey, do you have any favorite vegetables or fruits?”

“Um,” Penny shrunk back, a bit intimidated by the farmer’s sudden approach, “Oh, I don’t know...”

“Surely there’s something, don’t be shy.” (Y/n) encouraged.

“I, I like melon?” Penny more asked than told. Her back digging into the edge of the pool a bit uncomfortably.

“Melon,” (Y/n) nodded sagely, backing up a bit from Penny’s personal space. “Yeah, I could do that! You’ll have to wait for summer though, is that okay?”

“Wait?”

“Yeah, I can start planting melon in the summer. I’d do it sooner, but the seeds won’t take. I’ll be sure to give you the first one I harvest though!”

“You really don’t have to do that,” Penny waved her hands in front of her.

“I insist.” (Y/n) heaved themself out of the warm water, “Man, Penny, I have to thank you. You’ve inspired me to get back to work! I got to see if there’s anything else I can clean up around the farm before nightfall. I’ll see you around!”

“Okay, bye...” Penny watched them jog into the changing room, gasping when the farmer slipped on the tiles but continued on their merry way. She wasn’t sure what to make of the new addition to Pelican Town, but they seemed kind enough.

***

The next time Penny had seen (Y/n) was during one of her lessons with Vincent and Jas. She had been reading about the history of the valley when Vincent had waved excitedly at someone behind her back. Thinking it was just Sam or Jodi, Penny attempted to continue on with her lesson but she soon came to a stop when Vincent took to excitedly calling after the passerby.

“Hey, farmer! Good morning!” Vincent yelled.

“Really now Vincent,” Penny lightly scolded as she held her finger over the paragraph she had been reading, “you need to focus on the lesson.”

“Sorry Miss. Penny.” Vincent apologized. “But I see Farmer (Y/n). They’re so cool.”

“They’re probably busy—“

“Hi, Vincent! And a hello to you Jas and Penny.” A friendly voice cut in.

Penny looked up from her spot in the grass and watched (Y/n) approach, their arms full of daffodils.

“What’s going on here?” They asked once they were standing next to the group.

“School.” Vincent answered matter-of-factly. “Miss Penny is reading about history.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you were a teacher Penny. That’s really neat. I’m sorry for interrupting your lesson.” (Y/n) said, turning their attention to Penny.

“It’s alright, you didn’t know. I apologize if Vincent has distracted you from your own work.” Penny politely stated in kind.

“No worries, I’ve just been foraging around the valley. Leah posted a request for some dandelions but I couldn’t seem to find any today. I got a whole bunch of daffodils though. Would you three like to take some off my hands?”

“Wow, thanks!” Vincent quickly grabbed one before Penny could even think about declining.

Jas shyly took one for herself, still a little intimidated by the fresh face. She’d been growing a little more used to them though, thanks to Marnie’s encouragement.

“A flower, milady?” (Y/n) asked Penny again, sporting a warm smile that made the teacher feel like the heat of the day was starting to get to her.

“Thank you, this looks special.” She said, gently cupping the flower in her hands.

“You’re welcome. It’s no melon, but rest assured that summer will be upon us before you know it,” the farmer declared before spotting Willy in the distance. “Oh! Hey guys, I gotta go catch Willy to tell him about all the chubs I caught yesterday. It was good talking to you, see you all later!” They said before jogging off.

“Bye (Y/n)!” Vincent waved.

“Bye...” Penny and Jas said together, much more subdued than the young boy.

Penny watched (Y/n) until they disappeared into the saloon before turning back to her book. Her face tinged pink as she twirled her daffodil in one hand and picked up where she left off.

***

Summer rain pelted the metal of the trailer, thumping loudly with each drop, but Penny blocked it out easily as she read all cozy in her bed. Occasionally she would snap up a bit of freshly cut melon from the Tupperware resting on her nightstand and smile to herself.

(Y/n) had made good on their promise and had been pushing their fresh melons onto Penny since midsummer. Another sweet bite and Penny sighed pleasantly whilst marking her page with the daffodil (Y/n) had given her in the spring, now a dried and fragile makeshift bookmark.

The farmer was so warm, gentle. Better than anything her books could come up with and yet they somehow existed in her reality despite being too good to be true.

Since their somewhat uncomfortable origin, Penny could not have been more happy to have encountered them in the bathhouse that day. Even after getting to know each other better, even after (Y/n) had seen the messy state her mother kept the trailer in, they never treated her any differently.

“Penny,” the teacher jolted at the sudden knock and the rasp of her mother’s voice through the door, “I’m heading to the saloon. You want anything?”

“No thanks, mom.” Penny sighed. “I was thinking of making dinner myself tonight.”

“Alright honey. I’ll be back late.” Pam informed, her footsteps rocked the trailer slightly and the rickety front door closed loudly, signaling the older woman’s departure. At least now that the bus had been fixed (by who else but the resident hero farmer) her mother had less time to spend drinking.

Penny scooted out of bed and headed to the kitchenette and turned on the stove, putting a large pot on the flame. She had been trying to make something to give (Y/n) in thanks. Something for all the good they’ve been doing for the town and for treating her so kindly.

She began her experimental stew, pouring whatever she had on hand into the pot that she thought would taste good. She was so absorbed in her creation that she almost missed the knocking on the trailer door.

Penny turned off the heat and went to answer the door thinking it was probably just Vincent with another excuse why he couldn’t return his homework in time. She was surprised to see (Y/n) waiting outside.

“(Y/n), hello,” Penny greeted, beckoning the farmer out of the rain, “please come in, it’s pouring buckets out there. You must be soaked.”

“I’m okay, it’ll take more than a little rain to take me out.” (Y/n) smiled as they stepped into the trailer. “Hi Penny, hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Not at all. I was just cooking.” Penny bashfully admitted. So much for the surprise.

“Oh that’s cool. What’re you making?”

“Oh just some stew, I was actually hoping to give it to you,” Penny blushed, “for all the good you’ve done for the town.”

“Aw, that’s very sweet of you Penny. You didn’t have to do that.” (Y/n) said. They could feel their heart beat pick up in tempo at the gesture.

“I wanted to. Here, have a taste.” Penny presented a ladle full of soup to (Y/n), her blush grew warmer as the farmer leaned in close to take a taste before pulling themself to stand straight once more.

(Y/n)’s smile tightened the more they chewed, sweat dotted their forehead.

“Are you alright?” Penny asked, watching the farmer continue to chew.

“Mhmm.” (Y/n) squeaked, giving Penny a shaky thumbs up. Then they swallowed none too easily. “Wow,” they breathed, well, more like gasped, “that sure was something Penny. Thank you for sharing.”

“Is it really that bad?” Penny frowned, disappointed.

Immediately (Y/n) jumped into action, waving their arms, “It wasn’t bad at all! I was chewing so long because it tasted so good, I didn’t want it to end!”

Penny gave the farmer a doubtful look before looking down at the leftover stew in her ladle and raising it to her own lips.

“Wait, Penny—“

“Oh dear, that is vile...” Penny gagged. She hardly had so much as a sip before tossing the rest back into the pot. “I’m sorry, (Y/n). I should have tested it first...”

“Hey, it’s okay! You’re learning. It took me a lot of practice to learn how to cook too.” They assured. “If you want to come over sometime I could teach you a thing or two.”

“I wouldn’t want to interrupt. You’re always so busy...” Penny said, already contemplating how she was going to get rid of her hot, liquid garbage.

“You wouldn’t be interrupting anything. All I really need to do is water the crops and feed the chickens. I can take it easy every once in awhile. Besides, I’m always looking to spend time with you anyway so... yeah,” They rubbed the back of their neck.

“Really?”

“Yeah, so if you ever want to plan something... I’d really like that.”

“Okay.” Penny nodded, nervously fiddling with her hands. “I’d like that too. Very much.”

“Cool! Nice, yes.” (Y/n) practically sparkled at the affirmation. “When do you want to meet up?”

“Is Tuesday fine?”

“Tuesday is great! This is so exciting!” Just as the farmer pumped their fists over their head, a loud burst of thunder shook the trailer. “Wow, it’s a monster out there.”

“Yes, you should stay for awhile. At least until it calms down a bit... movie?” Penny suggested, gesturing to the little DVD player in the corner.

“That sounds like a great idea,” (Y/n) followed, their hand reaching into their bag, “I almost forgot I came to give you more melon!”

“You spoil me, really. How much melon do you think one girl can eat. I’m still working on the last one you gave me.” Penny giggled quietly.

“Fall will be here before long. Best to enjoy them while you still can.” They half-joked, sliding into the seat of the booth.

Penny slid into the seat beside them and popped open the DVD player. Maybe the melon season was coming to an end, but at least the farmer who planted them was here to stay.

***

By mid fall, Penny and (Y/n) were nearly inseparable. Any free time they had they usually spent together cooking in (Y/n)’s farmhouse, relaxing in the bathhouse or curling up with some books or other media.

The day was unusually warm for fall and Penny decided to treat Jas and Vincent to a picnic in the Cindersap Forest for all their hard work. While they ate and went through their lesson, Penny saw the farmer and waved them over without a second thought. She was simply thrilled to see them and thought their presence in the woods must have been fate.

“(Y/n), wonderful timing seeing you here. I was just teaching the children about natural resources. Could I trouble you to talk about how natural resources are involved in farming?” Penny asked once the farmer came up to them.

“Sure, I’d love to!” (Y/n) nodded.

Penny stared off dreamily at (Y/n)’s side as they explained what they knew about the valley’s resources while wondering how she could be so lucky as to know them. Once (Y/n) had explained a large amount of their process, Vincent raised his hand.

“Question, Vincent?” Penny asked, impressed that the boy seemed so invested in the lesson.

“Yeah, are you dating anyone Farmer (Y/n)?” Vincent asked.

“Uh, no. No I am not.” (Y/n) laughed, rubbing the back of their neck.

“Vincent!” Penny said, aghast.

“What?” The young boy questioned.

“You can’t just ask people stuff like that, Vincent.” Jas spoke up. “My auntie Marnie told me that when I asked her if Mayor Lewis was her boyfriend.”

(Y/n) and Penny gave each other an awkward side glance. After the incident with the bush, (Y/n) had to tell someone about it, and Penny had been the unfortunate mock therapist in that scenario.

“Ah, well, no harm done.” (Y/n) laughed. “Any questions related to the topic of natural resources?”

Penny observed how well (Y/n) got along with Jas and Vincent and thought they would make a wonderful parent. When the lesson had concluded and the children were playing by the river, Penny couldn’t help but ask (Y/n) if they had ever thought about having a family before.

“Every once in awhile I do. I think it would be nice. It would make the farm more lively at least.”

And with that admission, Penny couldn’t help but hope that one day, (Y/n) might see her as a suitable partner to share their life with.

***

Winter was, well, cold.

But Penny was glad for it because there were no crops (Y/n) needed to attend to and they were therefore, more available. They spent much more time together in winter than the previous seasons.

Today, Penny was heading to the farm for another cooking lesson from (Y/n). She was getting much better with the skill. She could even get her mother to spend more nights away from the saloon with the promise of a hot meal.

Penny stepped up onto the snowy porch and knocked her gloved hand against the wooden door. She could hear clattering from within the farmhouse and waited patiently for (Y/n) to usher her in.

“Penny, hi, glad you could make it!” (Y/n) grinned as they opened the door, guiding Penny in by the waist,

“Thank you for having me.” Penny flustered at the contact, despite her thick coat blocking the farmer’s touch. “What are we making today?”

“I thought some warm snickerdoodle cookies would be great on a cold day like this.” (Y/n) said.

“That does sound good.” Penny nodded as she hung up her coat and stepped out of her shoes. Then she followed (Y/n) to the kitchen and they got to baking.

Before long, the smell of cinnamon and sugary goodness permeated the space and the chill of the winter air outside was long forgotten. They were just getting ready to settle in with a movie when (Y/n) excused themself for a minute to go grab something from another room. It reminded Penny how small the farmhouse used to be before (Y/n) had commissioned Robin for a few projects.

Penny nervously eyed the bag she had left at the door. Was now a good time to bring out the bouquet? Penny had been silently agonizing over it all day. She had bought it from Pierre almost on impulse, she knew who she wanted to give it too, but what if (Y/n) saw her only as a friend and wasn’t looking for anything different? It was sure to make things weird between them.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Penny jolted in her seat as (Y/n) reappeared, something held behind their back. She quickly assured (Y/n) that it was alright and motioned them over to the couch so they could start their movie.

“Wait, Penny, can I ask you something first?” The farmer asked, still standing in the stairway.

“Of course.” Penny nodded, concern seeping into her tone. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

“No! No, at least, I don’t think so. I just wanted to ask if you would want to... and you can always say no, you won’t hurt my feelings... okay, it might sting a little but I’ll get over it—“

“(Y/n), what is it?” Penny asked, standing up and walking over to the fumbling farmer. She had never seen them look so shaken.

The farmer seemed at a loss. Opening and closing their mouth until finally they just brought their hand out from behind their back and presented Penny with a bouquet of their own. The teacher gasped, her hands flying up to her mouth in elation and surprise.

Without saying anything Penny bounded over to the front door and opened her bag, producing her own bouquet and delighting (Y/n) to no end as she wrapped the farmer in a tight hug.

After hours of cuddling on the couch and half paying attention to their movie, Penny decided she had to get home, despite (Y/n)‘s offers to have her stay over. She needed to make sure her mom didn’t overdo it at the saloon.

A quick glance around the bar and she noted that Pam wasn’t there. She gave Gus a polite wave before heading home. Upon arriving, she found her mother already settling into the pullout for the night and their eyes met. Pam’s eyes drifted down to the bouquet secured in Penny’s arms and grunted.

“It’s about time.” Pam grumbled before turning over on the noisy mattress.

Penny could only smile at her mother’s gruffness before retiring to her room to quietly continue celebrating in her own space.

***

By the fall of the third year since (Y/n) had moved into town, the pair became a well established couple and it was just common knowledge to suspect if one was out and about, the other couldn’t be too far off since they were practically joined at the hip.

Some of the townies had expressed worry that the farmer was shrinking off too much of their duties but in reality, the farm was a well oiled machine now and required little maintenance. The farmer had worked themself to the point of passing out on their farmhouse floor on occasion to get to this point. Money was hardly an issue anymore for the farmer who, quite literally, built their legacy on five hundred gold and a handful of parsnip seeds.

“There you are,” Penny kissed (Y/n)’s cheek chastely as they plopped down next to her under her favorite tree, “where have you been?”

“Just needed to take care of something quick.” They said, leaning their head against Penny’s shoulder.

“And what would that be?”

“I was talking to Robin. She had a request up.”

“And what did she want?”

“You are full of questions today, sweetheart.” The farmer laughed.

“And you aren’t being as forthcoming with information as usual. Usually, I wouldn’t even have to ask before you tell me all about your adventures, big or small.” Penny pointed out, “I do believe you might be hiding something.”

“No way!” The farmer scoffed before slouching a bit more because of the look Penny gave them, “Okay, maybe I am hiding something, but it’s a surprise. Give it a few days.”

“Just what might you be up to, hm?” Penny smiled, cupping (Y/n)’s cheek.

“You’re a teacher,” (Y/n) laughed again, “you should know what surprise means.”

Penny sighed before laughing along with her partner. Then the couple went in about their day and before long, the thought of (Y/n)’s surprise left her mind and she had forgotten all about it by the time Jas and Vincent’s lessons were over for the day.

A couple days later, (Y/n) had invited Penny and Pam over for lunch. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence. One of the things Penny appreciated most about (Y/n) was their willingness to reach out to Pam and build a good relationship with her as well. However, what made this trip particularly extraordinary was what waited for them where their old, rundown trailer used to be.

“Oh, Yoba...” Pam breathed, a hand placed heavily over her heart as she stared up at the grand looking house.

“Robin, what is this?” Penny asked, nearly as breathless as her mother and just as overwhelmed.

“I got commissioned for a community upgrade,” the carpenter smiled, “I hope you guys like it!”

“This is too much... how can we— who commissioned this?” Penny asked, running her fingers through her bangs.

“Anonymous donor,” Robin winked before making her way back up to the mountains, “enjoy the new house ladies.”

Penny hugged her mother while she cried and together they entered their new home, unsure how they could ever thank the donor enough. It didn’t take long for the mother daughter duo to figure out the identity of the commissioner. After all, there were only so many people who could pull off such a project and have the funds necessary to complete it.

“I’m going back to (Y/n)’s!” Penny called out. It felt weird having to actually throw her voice enough for her mother to hear her across their new house.

Pam managed a wave, still a bit overwhelmed by the vast space surrounding her.

Penny practically ran to the farm, the seashell pendant her father had gifted to her mother so long ago grasped tightly in her hand. Breathing heavily, she knocked on the door and waited for the farmer to appear.

“Hey Penny, did you forget a book or something? It must be good for you to run all the way over here for it.” They laughed, “come in, do you need some water—“

“I love you,” Penny declared, leaping into (Y/n)’s arms, “I can’t believe you did that for us.”

“Did what?” (Y/n) asked, looking a bit coy.

“You built my mom a house you wonderful busy body.” Penny said, smacking their shoulder.

“What? Did Robin tell? I asked her to keep it a secret.” (Y/n) pouted.

“(Y/n), it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that you were behind that project,” Penny sighed, “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me for anything. I was happy to help get the ball rolling. I love you guys and you do so much for Jas and Vincent, you deserve it. Now,” (Y/n) shifted a bit uncomfortably, “what exactly is digging into my back right now?”

“Oh!” Penny pulled back a bit, but kept the pendant out of (Y/n)’s sight. “I’ve only dreamed of doing this until I met you, it’s never felt more real, tangible. Oh my, this is nerve wracking.” Penny blushed.

“Take your time dear, breathe.” (Y/n) regarded Penny with soft eyes, rubbing her back comfortingly.

“(Y/n),” Penny spoke after a moment of collecting herself, “will you marry me?”

Penny presented the pendant, her eyes struggling to look at the farmer directly, but when the farmer pulled her back into another tight embrace she melted into their arms like warm butter.

“Yes, I love you! Yes.” The farmer cheered, their voice muffled by Penny’s shoulder. The vibrations, and words that created them, made Penny giggle with delight.

They stumbled into the farmhouse to celebrate their engagement, basking in each other’s company.

“I almost feel bad.” Penny suddenly stated, curled up in (Y/n)’s arms.

“Hm? What for, sweetheart?” (Y/n) asked as they ran their fingers through Penny’s hair.

“Mom will be in that big house all by herself. I’ll still see her everyday though, it’s not like I’m moving to Zuzu City... the idea of not living with her after all this time just feels odd.”

“I can understand that. It’ll take some getting used to. Just think of how nice it’ll be though, when somewhere down the line, we send our kids to grandma’s house for visits.”

“That does sound really nice. I’m really looking forward to starting a family with you.”

“Me too.” (Y/n) said. Then they leaned in to kiss Penny’s nose with great care and affection.

***

“Then a couple days later, we were married in front of the whole town.” (Y/n) finished softly, looking fondly over at Penny.

“That’s a nice story,” the eldest child yawned, “I wanna stay at grandma’s house again soon.”

“Of course, sweetie. We’ll work something out soon.” Penny promised whilst adjusting the fast asleep younger sibling in her lap, “now, it’s time to go to bed.”

“Alright,” The older child sighed before yawning again. “Carry me.”

(Y/n) released an amused exhale before standing and hoisting their child into their arms. Penny followed suit with the other, tucking them into their beds and kissing them goodnight.

Together, (Y/n) and Penny retired to their own room, falling into bed with tired groans.

“Those kids can be handful sometimes.” (Y/n) said, smiling all the while.

“Yes, and I wouldn’t want it any other way,” Penny rolled over to peck the farmer on the lips, “love you, sleep well.”

“I love you too, sweet dreams. I can’t wait to do this all again tomorrow.”

“Neither can I.”

#stardew valley x reader #stardew valley oneshots #sv penny #sdv penny #stardew valley penny #penny x reader #sdv penny x reader #sv penny x reader

[fictionalsownme]

Hawks Dating Sim / Visual Novel - Developer Log # 3

+ PATREON INFO (+slight hiatus)

Hi everyone! So there's been some developments and progress on the game since the last update, so I'm going to sum everything up here and then give a rundown of the Patreon that will go live in the coming months! Below you will find information about:

the new coder that I've hired to help speed things up!

where we are now with development and what's up next

all information you need to know about the support Patreon and how to join early (if you're interested!)

and the unfortunate hiatus I need to take and when I’ll be back!

Please feel free to message me if you have any questions or anything of the sort, and let’s get into it!

First up, the new coder!

So while I know a very small about of renpy coding (thanks to youtube!), development was painfully slow, and I’m sure any code I wrote was fragile and not very good ^^”” I really want this game to end up in your guys’ hands one day, so I decided to hire a professional coder to help out! His name is Selenyhr and you can find him here on fiverr! Since hiring him, development has seriously taken off and I am so happy knowing that the code is as stable as it can be! Overall, he’s been super patient and helpful, and the end product wouldn’t be the same (or nearly as good!) without him. It’s thanks to him this game actually has a chance of being finished one day!

So while I know a very small about of renpy coding (thanks to youtube!), development was painfully slow, and I’m sure any code I wrote was fragile and not very good ^^”” I really want this game to end up in your guys’ hands one day, so I decided to hire a professional coder to help out! His name is Selenyhr and you can find him here on fiverr! Since hiring him, development has seriously taken off and I am so happy knowing that the code is as stable as it can be! Overall, he’s been super patient and helpful, and the end product wouldn’t be the same (or nearly as good!) without him. It’s thanks to him this game actually has a chance of being finished one day!

The actual Developer Log!

So like I said, most of the progress lately has been code + mechanic related, but I’m going to be putting in the elbow grease for everything story/art related soon! Let’s get into what we got so far!

What’s Done:

the player gender system + code

player name code

player skin tone customizer (!)

UI design planning + some implementation

some villain path planning

Hawks sprite sketches (working on double checking and final changes before starting line work)

What’s Next:

UI implementation

game path/start code

secretary + pro hero path planning

overall story planning - big bad, main conflict, etc (I’ve started this process already but all ideas are still young!)

Hawks sprite lineart

sprite sketches for other characters (spoilers! hehe)

Overall, progress has really picked up and I have a pretty clear idea where we’re headed!

The support Patreon!

So overall, things with the Patreon are still a bit up in the air, but it won’t be going live until I’m back from my hiatus (more on that later!) so I’ve got some time to sort it out! As the name suggests it’s mainly for those who want to support game development, but there are benefits for each tier. I.E. behind the scenes on development, weekly updates, early access once the game is ready for release, a private discord (if people are interested in one), etc!

I also want to be completely transparent that money from the Patreon wouldn’t always go directly towards the game. By being a patron, you’re supporting me in order to support the game! Ideally, the more support there is from the Patreon, the more time I can spend on the game. Please feel free to message me if you have any questions or concerns about this! Please don’t feel obligated to join if you can’t or don’t want to, but in case you do decide I want to make sure everyone knows where their money is going!

So like I mentioned earlier, the Patreon won’t go live for a few months still, but if anyone is interested in becoming a patron early, please feel free to message me directly! There will be no benefits until the Patreon is live, but I wanted to keep the offer open for those who are just interested in supporting the game. Otherwise, I’ll be posting again when the Patreon is ready to go public for anyone who wants to join!

The hiatus :(

So for anyone who doesn’t know (I think everyone 0.0) I’m moving!! I won’t go into too much detail here, but I move from the east coast to the west coast in mid-December! Things are already pretty crazy while we prepare, and it’ll be awhile before things settle once we’re over there. I was going to try to continue regular posting and game development throughout the move but I realized trying to do so wasn’t very nice to my mental health ^^”. You might still see me post every once in awhile when I have the time and feel up to it, but otherwise I’ll probably be back mid to late January, early February at the latest! (I might have to take another quick hiatus soon after but we’ll worry about that later haha) I’m already super excited to be back full swing when the time comes, and I want to thank everyone in advance who is patient while I’m gone! 💞

Other than that, that’s everything for now! Thank you so much to everyone for all the love on this blog lately, even when I go for awhile without posting anything! 🥰 I really, really love posting on this blog and interacting with everyone and developing the game and everything, so you’ll know I’ll be itching to end my hiatus as soon as I can!! If anyone would like to be tagged when the Patreon goes live you can let me know as well! I hope you’re all having a great day/night!

taglist: @inkybird

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[eureka-its-zico]

Irrevocably Yours Pt. 2

Part 1 

Request: hey! can i request a scenario of jungkook being a rich kid who has some of his legs is leg failure , basically can't walk without a cane , And he falls in love with a normal girl , and they end up running away , happy ending plz , also if u can , LIT IT Up with smut ' thank u ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

A/N: So Part 2 is that slow burn build up (with possible cute moments?) and part 3 will be the actual SMUTTY goodness. Hopefully this is something cute and fluffy that is enjoyable and helps progress the story a little more so when a full length next part of a bunch of smut comes it all makes sense. Or idk anymore lol I edited this thing four times and I just really hope you all like it  Please enjoy this wordy mess. I wasn’t sure how to properly write it out the end and yeah...I winged it. If it needs to be fixed lmk please!! As always, I hope you all enjoy. Much love, Jenn

P.s. when I wrote this I listened to Lauv’s “I Like Me Better,” and Pink Sweat$ Feat. Kehlani’s “At My Worst,” on repeat like crazy.

Jungkook x Reader

Word count: 15,496 (I know:it’s a hefty boy)

Genre: Fluffy/Smutty, slow burn, 

The next day at school you weren’t a hundred percent sure what was going to happen. And sure, maybe you did wake up from a dream replaying that moment in the mud. The ending is a little bit different. This time, dream you didn’t let your chance to kiss him go by. When the opportunity presented itself, and you were both looking at one another like before, you’d leaned forward and kissed him. You weren’t surprised to feel him kissing you back. 

You could still feel the ghost of the imagination of him leaning down to press his lips against yours. The way he leaned in; eyes soft with longing as his body leaned deeper in against you. The weight of him pressing you into the mud until you were sure an imprint of this moment would be there forever. This imaginary kiss you’d shared was sweet, chaste, and everything you could’ve hoped for. Deepening at the last second as your alarm blared you back into realty. 

It made you want to ring your hands through your hair in frustration. 

Your whole walk to school was nothing but foggy images of the dream on repeat. A mixture of yesterday’s events accompanied them with each frame until you weren’t sure which was the actual moments or what your head had created. I mean, you did know he didn’t kiss you, but...the look in his eyes. Maybe Jungkook hadn’t, but there was that moment you swore maybe he felt the painful comedic romance moment of it all too. 

All these unanswered what if’s you'd created had built an impossible chasm that seemed to stretch infinitely wider between you in your head. In the end, you were your own bully as your mind stayed up until three that morning playing out every scenario you could think of. Even the ones that ended with you probably reading everything wrong, because what did you know about body language? Or, more specifically, boys built like Jeon Jungkook.

It didn’t matter that you had two tests today and never finished your homework for home period, but what the hell. Nothing like hopelessly daydreaming about the boy who may or may not have flirted with you and harmonized along to songs with a hidden voice of an angel, am I right? And sure, a large part of your night was  spent chastising yourself half the time to remind you there was no way in hell Jungkook could feel that way towards you. Even just a little. Your inner monologue of bringing yourself back down to earth, another culprit in the growing list of reasons why none of your assignments were completed. 

What can you say? You were a mess.

Your only game plan you’d been able to agree on was just to daydream out the window. Writing out your own hapless love story starring the boy who sat across from you in the home room. With a silent plea to the universe that you weren’t called on to answer any questions. 

Your arrival at homeroom was met with barely seconds to spare. The bell rang behind you, and a few other students, as you rushed towards your desk. 

“Hurry, hurry to your seats! Or I’ll write you up as late!”

Mr. Choi was all talk. Everyone knew it and his excessive arm movements to rush every body that passed his desk made him look exactly like a conductor. His crazy movements were enough to distract you for a split second from the one person you were desperate to ignore. 

“Good morning, class. I hope you are all fully rested and awake for class this morning. Let’s have us open our books to page two hundred and forty-two and continue on with our lesson.” 

In unison the sound of backpacks unzipping with students reaching in their backpacks to bring out textbooks filled the class. The only person who didn’t currently have said book was holding his hand up, and seated directly across from you. 

“Yes, Jungkook?”

“Seonsaengnim, I’m sorry. I haven’t received my textbooks yet.”

“Ah, that’s alright, Jungkook. You can go ahead and share with Y/N, again.”

You hoped your face wasn’t giving away the panic you felt rising up to match the blush that was streaking across your cheeks. Jungkook’s hand was already on the leg of your desk. His fingers tips grazing across your knee in passing as his hand wrapped around the bar and used it to bring you closer to him. You kept your eyes glued to page two hundred and forty-three and refused to look in his direction. Jungkook seemed to find a way to remedy this; his hand came into view and grabbed hold of the book corner and slid it over to his side. And as if he was the world’s greatest magician, he now had your attention. 

Your eyes immediately shoot up to acknowledge his presence, instead of staying on the book. You knew that devilish smirk of his would be there to greet you even before you actually saw it. 

“Well, good morning to you too, Y/N.”

His voice practically hummed a tune as he spoke. His eyes heavily searched your face, and you prayed whatever he found wasn’t any lasting signs of rosy cheeks. 

“Good morning, Jungkook. I hope you slept well.”

“I slept very well, thank you.”

“That’s good-“

He cut you off fast, his next words a hush of teasing: “Even though some crazy girl tried to smother me in mud yesterday.” 

Your world narrowed in on his smug position in his chair, but quickly realized he just wanted your attention. The smile he wore softened around the edges as his eyes tried to look away from you and yet found their way back. You did your best to hide your smile and must have failed miserably for his face noticeably brightened. 

“I’m sure if that’s what she was doing - which I doubt - you probably deserved it.” 

Jungkook pretended to be wounded and caused you to practically jump out of your seat when his free hand landed on top of yours. 

“I can’t believe you think I deserve to be smothered,” he pouted. 

You rolled your eyes in a weak attempt to look away from him. Anything to not be swallowed up by how stupidly cute he looked in this exact moment. The fingers that held your pencil lazily tapping on the pages of the math book to bring his focus to something else that wasn’t you. 

“We need to pay attention.”

It was the only valuable excuse you could come up with to look away from him. But who were you kidding? You didn’t have to be looking in Jungkook’s direction to be painfully aware that he was there. His own gaze burned straight through you and left a trail of heat everywhere his eyes seemed to land. 

Right now, you were aware they were on your lips and stirring every emotion from your dream you tried to suppress. Plus, you weren’t being cute. Unless Jungkook found the sight of you chewing your bottom lip into dust attractive. 

It was a terrible nervous habit that seemed to only backfire right this second. You were sure he was ready to make a comment on it. You waited patiently for it to come in between you mindlessly copying equations off the board and the sea of arms flying up to answer whatever it was you’d just written. My gosh, you were trying so damn hard to not pay attention that you were doing nothing but paying attention to him. 

Please don’t let him just see I’m doodling. 

Mr. Choi was in the middle of showing how to work out a long equation when you decided it was safe to give Jungkook a glance. It was instantaneous how quickly you regretted it. 

You jumped back against your seat in a weak attempt to recover some space. You weren’t exactly sure how you’d missed it -missed him- getting so close, but you had. Jungkook’s face was mere inches from yours and it took everything to not show him you weren’t at all bothered. 

“Jungkook,” you whispered fiercely. “What.are.you.doing!”

Jungkook ignored your question. His eyes squinting as they looked around the side of your head. The gesture made you increasingly subconscious until you couldn’t keep your hand from going up to brush alongside it. 

“What? What is it?”

You were expecting the worst. 

“I think I see some mud still stuck inside your ear.”

And like magic your earlier blush reappeared. Your tongue rolled against the bottom of your teeth in a weak attempt to keep yourself from smiling. Unfortunately, you weren’t able to stop it as the urge to give in tugged mercilessly at your lips. The playful glint in his eyes was enough to keep the panic of how incredibly close he still was. Your eyes hopelessly glancing at the pair of lips that plagued your dreams. 

Jungkook noticed. 

And how did you know this, you might ask? 

Jungkook gave it away by the dramatic way his lower lip was drawn in by his teeth. Every movement he made sure was exaggerated and stupidly slow. His eyes watch for your reaction. He didn’t have to wait long; your eyes were glued to them long before his teeth joined the equation. You should’ve felt more embarrassed at your own blunt display - or maybe at his -but, god help you, you weren’t. 

You tore your gaze away from him and did your best to pretend whatever part of the lesson you’d missed was interesting. The dirt on your shoes could’ve been more interesting at this moment; anything to keep you from looking back at him. 

“I rinsed my hair three times in the shower. Thank you very much.” 

“Did you think of me while you were washing yourself clean?”

If what Jungkook was after was seeing your face light up brighter than a tomato he’d succeeded. Your cheeks instantly flushed and felt scolding hot. The only line of defense you could think of to fight the devilish look in his eyes was to give him a smack on his arm. The motion only caused his sinister smile to turn into a full blown grin; a bark of laughter leaving him seconds later. 

Jungkook chuckled out an, “Ouch!” His body leaning back, faux wounded, and rays of sunshine pouring out of him in waves. 

“I meant when you were getting the mud out of your hair.” His voice carried the singing sweetness of his laughter; airy and light. This boy who you did think of in the shower. All hard edges and softness; sour and sweet. Your very own sour patch kid. “I mean, I thought of you when I tried scrubbing it out from behind my ears.”

Your heart gave a brief jump at his omission. What you wished you would’ve focused on was the fact he’d admitted to thinking of you...in his own shower. But nope! Instead, your mind appeared to focus more on the fact it was while he scrubbed at his ears. 

“I scrubbed my ears too.”

Oh. My. God, you inwardly cringed. 

Is that really what your magical brain decided to say in return? Jungkook leaned back in, eyes inspecting not just your ear, but your entire space. Recklessly moving in dangerously close, and your heart was ready to beg for mercy. Whether to completely close the space between you or to stop teasing, of which you weren’t sure. 

“It appears you didn’t do that good of a job,” he huffed.

A gurgled scream flew into your throat; the sound was utterly ridiculous and Jungkook ate it up. His head flew back in laughter as your hand moved to swat at him again. 

The disruption turned the attention of your teacher directly to the two of you, and Mr. Choi was quick to address it. 

“Jean Jungkook! Y/L/N, Y/N!”

The both of you rose from your seats in unison. Jungkook’s rise the definition of graceful, while yours in comparison was met with anxiety and your knees colliding with your desk. Your small “Oomph,” of pain sending him into a fit of giggles beside you. The hand you sent in to pinch at his leg only sent him into another fit. 

“Y/N!”

Stupid, stupid! Of course he would see.

“Seonsaengnim!”

To appease him, you felt your body respond in a ninety-degree salute. Your face keeping down to stare at your shoes and praying you weren’t about to be sent out of the room. 

“Would you mind explaining what Jungkook and you found so interesting that the two of you felt like you didn’t need to be a part of class.”

God, it wasn’t a question. He really wanted you to tell him, and what could you say? 

“Oh, he was just asking me if I was in the shower...thinking of him. And he was thinking of me too!”

Which wasn't a lie. Maybe it wasn’t as dirty as he might have intended, but it was enough to make your cheeks flush to life with their usual color these days. Your mind was still racing with an appropriate answer for Mr. Choi. You were taking so long you were ready to blurt out anything he might want to hear. 

“Seonsaengnim.” Jungkook gave a respectful bow and lifted his head. His full attention now resting on the impatiently waiting man at the front of the class. “We were discussing the fact that you, respectfully, have written the equation wrong on the board.” 

The entire class seized up. A collective air was taken at Jungkook’s bold attempt to correct him. It was awkwardly obvious that he wasn’t happy at the idea of being corrected. However, Jungkook remained unfazed and waited for the right time to speak. 

“Is that so?” He snapped. “If it is so wrong, Jeon, then please, come and fix it for me.”

You were sure his order for Jungkook to go to the front would make him back down . No one enjoyed doing class work on the board up front for all to see. But you’d forgotten Jungkook wasn’t like everyone else. He kept his head high and moved to grab his cane; his hand wrapping tightly to its handle. Jungkook stepped out from inside his desk and let his feet carry him forward. He walked with a noticeable lack of a limp and you were willing to bet that strike of pride was costing him. 

It wasn’t that you couldn’t believe that Jungkook was able to walk without it. It was just that your memory forced you to recall the pain he was in during the field trip. The flashes of frustration as his eyes threatened to spill over with tears. 

Jungkook came to stand beside Mr. Choi. His hand reaching out to take the marker that the older man had held out waiting for him to prove his equation wrong. He plucked it from the older man’s hand and moved the last few inches to stand in front of the board. His eyes scanning the problem quickly. Your breath held tight in your chest as you watched him get permission to grab the eraser. The class transfixed on his every movement.

You wondered how many of the girls in your class focused on him like you were. The same way your eyes ate up every simple movement he made. The notable flex of his back while he stretched to erase the middle and last part of what Mr. Choi had written out. 

“You had a good start here, Seonsaengnim.” Jungkook paused to stretch out his hand. Fingers marking underneath the start of the problem. “But you didn’t multiply these after they were divided, and because of this the middle became wrong. With your core of the problem being wrong the solution was never able to end in its final conclusion.”

With every word, Jungkook’s voice became more self-assured. His presence enveloping the room and demanding the attention he’d already received without question. Mr. Choi watched on with his arms crossed; index finger hugging his mouth in concentration as he watched Jungkook work. From the back of the class, you could see students writing down the new formula. Some of them realized the obvious error Mr. Choi had made. 

Jungkook looked at the problem over again on repeat. If it’d been you, you would have left it where it was knowing you’d done what no one else did. But Jungkook wanted to know, for himself, that it was correct. 

Finally, he stepped back from the whiteboard and handed the marker back to Mr. Choi. Who looked measurably impressed with him. His index finger he’d used for thinking now covered up a timid smile before he dropped it to grab a hold of the marker. 

“Go ahead and have a seat, Jungkook.”

Jungkook gave him a passing bow as he made his way back towards the back of the class. Back to you. It took everything you had not to notice how everyone’s view of him seemed to change. Even the honor students; the ones bound for scholarship glory to prestigious colleges now seemed to take new interest in him. 

You’d heard stories about Jungkook, like everyone else did. The Boy Wonder. The boy who seemed unfairly good at everything. Before you’d ever met him, a part of you believed there wasn’t a way the universe would seriously do that. And yet, as he moved to sit back down beside you, you suddenly felt the overwhelming sensation of being below average. Your subconscious rose up to stop whatever sunlight you’d felt at his earlier words, and crushed it until it began to dim. All but snuffing it out. 

Jungkook fell back into the seat at his desk riding the high of confidence he’d gained from proving he’d know how to fix the answer. Not just know it; teach it. The air around him completely changed. He was the sun and the rest of you were becoming helplessly lost in his orbit. From the backwards glances of the others around you, you were pretty sure they weren’t going to mind one bit. 

Either Jungkook was honestly oblivious to all the attention or he just didn’t care. He practically beamed as he leaned himself closer to you completely unaware at how breathless he made you. That smile you’d admired during your field trip showed itself beaming and bright. He was so damn pleased with himself his eyes sparked with joy and you wish you could’ve pouted. Maybe found the strength not to care or to wonder if he could see how he affected you. 

You wanted to pout and be in your own bubble, damn it. 

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I don’t think he’ll bother us again.”

Us. 

Those butterflies you’d sworn to yourself you were not feeling towards him began to come to life. Or were they butterflies? You weren’t sure what to call the feeling Jungkook gave you. 

Sure, Jungkook made your heart thunder in your chest like a caged animal. And yea, maybe you swore to yourself there was an attraction there that you couldn’t explain, but that was just your dopamine talking. That didn’t mean the two of you were soulmates or the universe decided to bring you both together by a mess of unseen choices. 

But...when Jungkook looked at you this way it was hard to tell your thundering heart anything else. 

The two of you continued to look at one another. A heartbeat of time passing between you with Jungkook waiting for your reply. You watched the edges of his smile start to wilt as realization set in that you weren’t planning to  reply. No smile or teasing remark was headed his way, and just as fast as he noticed it, determination swiftly replaced the light weighted joy he’d shown moments earlier. 

“Hey, you don’t have to worry. I’m positive he will leave us alone the rest of the class. I promise.”

God, why did he have to make things so difficult? When Jungkook spoke the words, “I promise,” they’d been so earnest. He meant them. Here he was trying to turn the tables and be your knight, instead of you being his. It would have worked, but what he didn’t know was that you weren’t worried about Mr. Choi. Not really. 

No one could tear you down further than you were able to do to yourself. 

He was still waiting for the answer that you would never give. You turned to face forward in your chair and tried to forget the ripple of sadness that moved over his face. The cost of your stubbornness suddenly felt too high. No matter how it made you feel though, you refused to look over in his direction. 

An awkward chasm had built between the two of you. Mostly, well, obviously it was all because of you. You figured Jungkook would eventually stop looking at you. You prayed he would stop. Every time he did it your body became painfully aware of his gaze, and the longing it held for you to acknowledge him. And every time you remained facing front. You no longer could pretend to focus, however, and that seemed to be all the signs Jungkook needed to know you were in some way paying attention.

Your notebook that’d been left unattended on the desk became his private art museum. The doodles started off silly and slowly morphed into small faces and objects that held impressive detail. You tried your best to ignore it; his arm practically took up most of the space on your desk. The angle forced him to shoulder into your space to the point that if you did finally turn to look at him you’d run inches away from his cheek. 

You were doing your best to pay attention to whatever your teacher was doing at the front. Your eyes watched as a wave of hands went up to answer questions you’d never heard. Yours kept sliding back down to the latest doodle he was making. The latest one he was working on had forced Jungkook to move further inland on your notepad. His forearm getting dangerously close to having to rest in your lap. 

It continued like this the remainder of class. For all the effort you’d put in the last half hour of pretending he wasn’t there, Jungkook shattered it within seconds. 

He’d repositioned himself with each new doodle he started. His shoulder wedged itself against yours and his forearm had completely taken up what little space was left on your desk. You were trying very hard to not pay attention to how said forearm was dangerously close to your chest. There was no hiding the redness of your cheeks. 

Without thinking, you whipped your head to look at him and almost yelled. You knew he was close, but nothing prepared you for this.

“Excuse me,” you whispered, voice incredulous. 

Jungkook turned to look at you and...was he pouting? His eyes played up on the childish quality as he turned to you and batted his eyes.

“Can I help you?”

“Ugh, can I help you? Do you need paper or something?”

“I have paper right here. Thanks.”

Jungkook patted the notepad with the end of his pen. Satisfied with his answer he turned his attention back to his latest artistic endeavor. 

“You know this is my desk. Right?”

“I like to think of it more like our desk. Sharing a space like we shared music.”

“Ya, Jungkook. You realize you blackmailed me into using my ipod.”

Jungkook feigned shock. His mouth dropping open and his eyes brows going too high up into his hairline. The entire scene was exaggerated and ridiculous. The scene forced you to roll your lips against your teeth to keep from smiling. The effort it took to hide your grin wasn’t unnoticed by Jungkook, and you couldn’t help but wonder if that’d been his goal all along. 

“Blackmail sounds so crass. I like to think of it as bargaining.”

“So we agree it’s called blackmail, then.” 

The theatrics of his face dropped into a serious stare that left his face completely blank. Void of all emotion except the annoyance that drew a heavy frown from his face. It was stupidly cute and this time you did allow yourself to smile. Your fingers reached out to grab one of his puffed out cheeks and gave it a sweet pinch, like a grandmother, and cooed in his direction. 

“Oooooh Jungkookie, don’t frown. We’ve all gotta be wrong sometimes.” 

He playfully nipped at your hand to make you snatch it away. It took everything in you not to make a sound at his sudden movement. Your mouth hung open in an awkward smile-shout as you brought your handle against your chest. 

“I think you’re misinterpreting the facts here. Maybe you hit your head on a small pebble or something when you fell in the mud.”

“You mean when you pulled me in.”

He shrugged and replied nonchalantly, “I don’t think I recall any force being used yesterday. You just fell on my chest trying to take advantage of me in my time of need.”

Now it was your turn to look deadpanned in his direction. Jungkook didn’t try to hide his wicked smile, however, and the cage of butterflies that were housed in your gut were released all over again. 

“Your appa must be a lawyer. It’d explain why you’re so good at bullshitting.”

“CEO, actually. But I would say you’re close. They are also full of shit.” 

You weren’t sure what to say to this omission about his father. Underneath the sarcasm felt like a heavy chasm that spoke of the death of a relationship. Your curiosity threatened to get the best of you, but you decided to just throw it away. Filing it away inside a little folder you’d made for little known facts about him. 

The bell rang and the mass of bodies in class all began to rise from their seats. All of them eager to rush from the classroom and do whatever plans they’d made to enjoy their little bit of freedom. You were reaching for your bookbag when Jungkook’s hand was just there. A part of you worried he’d decided to play a game of keep away, or something that fit his playful mood, Instead, he placed it down on the desk. 

“Oh, thank you, Jungkook.”

God. Why were you staring? Why was he staring?

The room was still filled with the small display of chaotic teenage energy. Most of them had already filed out of the classroom, while some were still putting things away. Honor students were arguing with the teacher about markings he’d left on papers. Small groups of friends chatting happily as they moved in tight clusters through the door. So much was going on around you, and yet the only person you were aware of was him. 

“You’re welcome. Have a good lunch, Y/N.”

The playful air that’d been around him had completely disappeared. This boy who stood before you now was more reminiscent of when you’d first met than the boy you’d grown to like. What had made him grow so distant?

“You too, Kookie.”

It slipped out. You couldn’t stop yourself. He’d already started to walk away in his retreat. As soon as his pet name you’d given him hit his ears he completely stopped moving. His head whipped around to glance at you with that devilish grin raised high on his cheeks. 

“Kookie? Are you calling me a snack?”

If your eyes could’ve gotten any wider, they would’ve left your skull. The embarrassment was hot on your cheeks and you knew Jungkook would tease you without mercy for the slip up. By the look in his eyes you could tell he was never going to let this go. Not ever. He would be too happy to remind you of this until the day you died. Or until graduation. Whichever came first.

This time you scooped up your bookbag and snatched your book off the desk clutching them to your chest. In your haste to grab them and go, your knee collided with the edge of the desk, but you’d worry about that possible bruise later. You just needed to flee before Jungkook got any closer. 

“No, no. It was an accident.”

“You called me a snack by accident?”

You were backing up towards the safety of the open hallway. Your shoulders shrugging too high and your laugh too high-pitched in your attempt to play it cool.

“No snack nicknames here. It was just a slip of the tongue. I must just be hungry, ya know.”

“Are you hungry for me?”

Oh, he was intolerable sometimes. It didn’t matter how flustered he made you. A part of you knew his endless teasing was growing on you. You liked it, and the sane part of you wondered if you’d gone crazy. 

“Ya, Jungkook-”

“I think you mean, Kookie,” he cut in. 

Jungkook held a single finger up to silence you. He’d stopped moving towards you and let out a laugh as you tried to swat his hand down. He looked so much happier than he did moments ago. That alone made his teasing at your expense worth it. 

“No I mean, Jungkook. It’s the name your parents gave you.” You stated, proud that your voice sounded more stable than you felt. “I’m gonna go eat my lunch now. You should do the same and I’ll...see you later.”

You waited for him to argue. To continue to make comments in passing to keep your face rosy and flushed. He surprised you by just standing there in silence. His smile wide on his face and eyes looking at you like you’d held the moon. A look you weren’t used to and made you unsure how to respond. 

You started to walk back towards the door and found yourself disappointed when he didn’t follow. You sent him an awkward wave as your arms still held onto your things from your desk. Jungkook showed his amusement by giving you a wave in return.

“See you later, Y/N.”

At his words you turned on your heel and headed out towards the courtyard. No longer eager to eat your lunch that you’d packed. Your mind replayed his words and knew, without a doubt, he would keep his word.

—————-

Lunch went by as quickly as it came. Instead of eating your lunch with friends, you’d opted for sulking in the auditorium. Absentmindedly taking small bits off your food as you considered what had happened between Jungkook and you. 

There was flirting there. You may be a little delusional, but you weren’t delusional about this. It was obvious to anyone who witnessed it and yet you tried to deny its existence at every turn.  Of course, you knew why. 

It just didn’t make logical sense. You were two opposites that shouldn’t be in the least bit interested in the other. Well, that didn’t really seem correct when it came to Jungkook. He was attractive to everyone and probably even inanimate objects. But you...you just couldn’t see yourself that way. You’d only ever had one relationship in your life and it had been short-lived and in the third grade. 

Throwing what little was left of your sandwich back inside it’s little brown coffin, you removed yourself from your spot. A huff left you as you reached out to pick up your mess and started to hop back down the steps one-by-one. 

You weren’t sure what walking around was going to do. For the hundredth time since this day started, you were lost in your own head. The only thing you knew for certain was that you’d hoped to run into him again. A thought came to you that maybe, just this day, he’d shown up in the school's cafeteria. 

You could think of a million excuses for why you’d need to go into the cafeteria and it wouldn’t be weird. Just the thought of not coming off weird, while most certainly being weird, made you beam at your own creativity. 

You’d reached the last step and we’re crossing the field when you noticed, on the other side, the very boy you were looking for. He was alone and sitting under the shade of the only tree next to the amphitheater. His back against the bark and a knee drawn up to give his notepad a place to perch. Whatever he was writing, drawing, or formulating held his interest and refused to let him look up. 

All your previous bravado deflated in a second. It would be harder to deny you weren’t actively seeking him out if you went to him now. But, who said that you wanted too? 

Grabbing the strap of your book bag tight, you started back on your mission. Your legs made quick work across the field. It wasn’t until there was only a few feet left between you that he looked up. His brow still furrowed in tight creases of concentration as he decided if you were a friend or foe. Your feet almost tripped over themselves when he smiled at you. 

“Y/N!” He called happily. “What brings you over here?”

“I came looking for my snack.”

The surprise on his face made your bold choice of a response worth it. Jungkook, being who he was, quickly recovered and set his notebook and pencil down beside him. He placed his arms casually on his propped up leg and leaned forward as if he was about to tell you a secret. 

“Well, you found me. Why did you come looking for me? Really.”

You tried to think quickly of what to say. The idea of telling him the truth, that you’d just wanted to see him, felt painfully honest and might press him to ask for you to explain. How could you explain that in the short time you’d met him he was both the most interesting and infuriating man you’d ever met. But he was also the most beautiful, and had a delicate softness under his hard exterior that you were growing to love. He was basically the perfect description of the onion from Shrek. 

An idea clicked in your head and your hands quickly moved inside your bag and produced another brown bag. 

“I wanted to come see if you’d eaten. I had some spare kimchi rice ball’s my omma made.”

You extended the bag out to him. Your eyes locked together as you waited for him to either accept it or deny it. Jungkook surprised you by leaning forward and taking it gently from you. It took some effort, but he crossed his legs -his bad one in an awkward position - and plopped the bag down between his legs. 

You moved to sit beside him in the grass and took your book bag off your shoulder and into your lap. You watched as he moved to open the bag and peered cautiously inside. 

“It’s not a bomb,” you chided. 

“I never know with you.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile spreading like wildfire across your lips. Jungkook was so charismatic it felt inevitable and fighting against it was futile. He took a large bite of the rice ball and practically swooned. His eyes had fallen shut and a ridiculous chanting of endless “Mhm’s” had started rising up around you. 

“Should I leave you two alone?”

Jungkook’s eyes snapped open and for a moment you were worried maybe you did pull him out of some weird food ritual. His eyes were blank and then, all at once, he was back to being his usual animated self. The hand that held the rice ball shaking in your direction before shoving what was left inside his mouth. 

“This is unbelievably delicious.” He mumbled around his food. “You said your omma made these?”

“Yup!”

You’d said it in English just to dramatically pop the P at the end. Extending out your own kind of dramatics to match Jungkook’s. You leaned your hands back into the grass and noticed Jungkook watch your every move as you did. 

“Is your omma married?”

Your face fell into a deadpan stare as you replied, “Seriously? Of course her and my appa are still married, you creep.”

“If you can cook like your omma, Y/N I’m willing to lend you my amazing tutoring services. All for the low price of making things as delicious as this.”

He was already mid-way through shoving the second rice ball in his mouth. His head tilted back to drop it down. A piece of rice must have dislodged itself from its balled shape, because he erupted in a coughing fit. You couldn’t help but laugh as you handed him your water. 

“I think I’ll steer clear of rice treats. Just to make sure you don’t kill yourself.”

Jungkook was about to lift the bottle up to his lips and stopped. His eyes falling on you with a playful glare. You held your hands up in mock surrender as you leaned forward. Your hands clap together to get pieces of grass and soil from your hands. 

While he drank the water you’d offered up the two of you fell into companionable silence. You didn’t mind waiting and Jungkook was happy that you did. When he’d finished with the bottle, he set it down beside him. His hand moving like a flopping fish in your direction to make you give him something that you’d had no idea he’d asked for. 

“Come on. Let’s see your math homework.” 

“For what?”

“To start your tutoring. Duh.”

You hated how cute he’d made the word sound. The way his lips smiled around it and left him beaming at you like a little kid on Christmas. 

“Can we pass? We just left the class and I hate math. A lot.”

Jungkook tsked you but didn’t look disappointed. 

“You can’t get better at something if you give up on it. Luckily for you, you’ve got the best person in the subject to tutor you.”

“For a fee,” you pointed out. 

“All the best things come with a price. I’m most definitely one of them. Now. Book.”

His hand movements were more controlled now. His fingers simply waved once -twice- for you to hurry it up and place what he’d asked in his hand. You really didn’t want any part of this. The thought was sweet, but when you said you hated math you meant it. So yeah, maybe you were grumbling a little as you reached inside your book bag and taking a little longer than was necessary to hand it over. 

Jungkook took it from you in one smooth motion and had it open to the spot previously in class. All your homework problems you’d left unfinished glaring against the white of the page. His eyes were already scanning over what little problems you’d written down. A clicking noise from his closed mouth reminding you why exactly you hadn’t finished more of it. The reason was sitting right in front of you. 

His hand flicked back out and he held it open. His eyes never lifted off the page as he demanded, “Pencil.”

“What the heck? Why am I supplying everything.”

“Cause I’m supplying myself,” he shot back. His hands taking the pencil you handed over to him. “Plus, I also can’t seem to find any in my bag.” 

“You didn’t even look.”

Jungkook gave a graceful shrug. His attention was fully engrossed in the problems. You weren’t ready for how cute he looked. How adorable those concentration creases in his forehead made him look, even deadly serious, with his fingers tapping the pencil absentmindedly on the paper. When he figured out what was missing from the equation he quickly erased and reconfigured everything on the page. 

You were staring intently at him, both because his angle’s were ridiculously handsome but also, the way the sun fell down on him here, peaking through the trees, felt like magic. It was hard to believe the universe was more than just molecules and that luck was thrown out randomly. If it was, maybe you’d caught some. 

Your thoughts were running wild and your concentration was no longer in the safe zone. Maybe that’s why when he finally looked up from the notebook and found you staring he’d smiled. Not his teasing one. Or the condescending either. This smile was soft like a secret, and directed only at you. \

“See something you like?”

His voice was gentle in his playfulness. As if he wanted to take the cautionary approach in case you were spooked. 

“Maybe I do.”

A smile of your own spread to match his and Jungkook wasn’t surprised. He was just happy, and it was a lovely sight to see. He looked away from you with his hand moving up to smooth out the hair on the back of his neck. He flicked the pencil down on the notebook and brought it forward for you to see. 

“Let’s get back to this. I’ll be honest with you. It’s pretty bad. You missed a whole line on the third problem that left you with an incomplete answer. Not to mention,” he lifted up the notebook and motioned towards the whole page, “Where is all the rest of the homework?”

Jungkook’s voice was filled with the beginnings of laughter. Not specifically towards you, but just the blatant fact you did not care. You gave him your best nonchalant shrug. In reality, you did care. It bothered you it wasn’t finished. 

Your fingers were digging in the grass and ripping some of it up and throwing it out into the field. 

“I had a hard time concentrating last night. Plus, if I’m being honest math has always been the hardest subject for me.”

“And that is why I’m going to help you.”

“For a fee,” you reminded him. 

“I’ll teach you the easiest way I know how to do these and I promise you, you’ll be flying through these problems in no time.”

The sincerity in his voice was evident. Jungkook really believed it and he wanted you to believe it too. You just couldn’t understand why and you found yourself speaking your mind. 

“Why are you wanting to help me?”

It was his turn to shrug his shoulders. His face went blank as he looked at you one last time before he looked away. Whatever he was looking at he wasn’t really seeing. He just needed someplace else to look than the person he was talking to you. You did it plenty of times yourself. 

Whatever he’d decided on to say had caused his shoulders to square. Determined that whatever he needed to say he would make sure it meant something. 

“I like spending time with you.”

The smile you’d worn completely shattered as you stared at him. The butterflies rushed up and up until they trapped themselves in your throat. Jungkook’s admission was basically three words dropped away from just saying he liked you. 

This surprising admission should’ve been enough to make yourself not care who you saw walking. Or care when he stopped, his small mob with him, and start gesturing at his imaginary watch. His fingers rubbing together for money owed. 

It was worse when Jungkook looked back and took notice. Even worse when he looked back at you with questions swirling in his eyes. 

“Everything okay?”

Your eyes looked down to the safety of your hands. The way they were helplessly fidgeting back in the grass and tearing it apart like a miniature tantrum was brewing inside you. You hated that after all this time, you let Lee Kwon upset you by making you feel embarrassed about your dad. That he felt the need to tell everyone the business deal between his father and yours. How every time he told it he’d turned him more and more into a villain of his own misfortune. 

Without a reason why you took back your notebook from Jungkook and shoved it inside your bag. You were ready to leave. You didn’t want to explain, but you knew Jungkook wouldn’t let you just leave without one. 

He reached out and his hand gently wrapped around your wrist to stop you. There was no force. Nothing that hinted that he would keep you there if you didn’t want to be kept. Looking at him felt harder. His genuine worry almost threatened to let the tears from your frustration spill forward. 

“Hey, Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head. Your vision dragging away from him and back to the retreating back of the sociopath, Lee Kwon. 

You didn’t try to shake him off. You actually felt comforted by his worrisome touch. The way he leaned in closer as if he would pull you into his arms at any moment. As much as you wanted that to happen, you knew it wouldn’t happen. A deep sigh had built up in your chest and you released it while you looked back at him. 

“Look. Eventually, I know you’re going to hear about it: my dad, I mean.”

“That’s kind of odd high school kids would talk about someone’s appa.”

“You and me both,” you agreed. “But Kwon’s dad is a banker who doesn’t believe in client confidentiality. So he tells his son about his day over dinner and-“

“And he decides to bring it to school to make your life miserable,” Jungkook finished for you. 

He understood and didn’t need you to simplify it anymore. His hand left your arm and you suddenly found yourself missing his comforting touch. It was still there, that comfort, in the way his eyes softened and he leaned in intent to listen to whatever you needed to get off your chest. You appreciated his attention, but also hated it at the same time. 

“What’s your Appa’s thing?”

God. He did understand. Maybe just a little too well for your liking. 

“Gambling. It started when I was in the seventh grade. At first it wasn’t anything too crazy. He’d always been able to even it out. But then he became obsessed with the idea of winning big. Kept betting on things we couldn’t afford to lose. Eventually, he bet too high and ended up losing the business he and my mom built together and our house. They had to pay the bank back.”

“A bank this dude’s Appa works at.”

“Correct. My Appa...he isn’t a bad man. He’s paid his debt and hasn’t gambled since. What good is it for me or anyone else to make him feel bad for the rest of his life?”

“I don’t get it. Why does that have to do with you, though?”

You’d wondered the same exact thing half of your adolescent life. You shrugged and looked at Jungkook wondering if maybe he’d be able to make sense of it better than you could. 

“Twelve year old boys enjoy making up stories. First it was that we became so poor we lived with pigs. That's why I smelled.”

You put air quotations around smelled and Jungkook practically howled with laughter. You tried your best to show no emotion, but could feel the corner of your lips threatening to curl into a smile. 

“He probably said it because you didn’t know how to wash back then and, judging from earlier, I still don’t think you do.”

You moved to playfully shove at his shoulder. A scoff of laughter leaving you even though you told yourself you wouldn’t. Jungkook was waiting for you to make a move and when you did he easily grabbed a hold of you. The feeling of intimacy, just like yesterday in the mud, was swimming back to the surface. 

Your eyes looked up into his with your laughter being met with a wide grin. The way he was looking at you now made you believe in fairytales and left your lips aching to be kissed. 

Before either of you could decide what to do next, the bell for the end of lunch sounded. You could hear it going off all around you, but still the two of you stayed holding each other. Your bodies close enough that if he wanted to make a move all Jungkook needed was to lean down. To say your heart dropped a little when he moved away was an understatement. 

You focused on getting up from the grass. Your hands patting down your uniform as you struggle to find something not so awkward to say. You wanted to sound confident. You wanted to sound like you weren’t affected by him at all. 

“Well, I’ll see you around.”

God, you sounded awkward. You turned to start heading to your next period. You closed your eyes tight and mouthed, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” You’d gotten a few feet away when you heard him call to you. 

You turned to look back at him and found him still standing under the tree. His hands in his pockets and his eyes solely on you. 

“Would you let me walk you home?”

Did he really have to ask? You’d let him walk you to the edge of a volcano. You didn’t say that, however. You wanted to play it cool, but on the inside you were screaming. 

“I’d like that.”

When you turned back around to make your way to class, the memory of how his face had brightened at your reply, stayed with you. You couldn’t wait for the day to end. 

_________

True to his word Jungkook waited for you after school. You couldn’t help looking for him over the countless shoulders as you walked with the sea of students towards the entrance. The hole in the pit of your stomach opened back up from the underlying dreadful thought. That he wouldn't show up. You’d be left standing there waiting for him forever. But Jungkook continued to prove your pessimism wrong. 

The closer you got to the school’s gate, you were able to spot him instantly. He was leaning coolly against the gate. His bag at his feet and his cane positioned strategically out of view. If anyone just casually walked up, they would’ve never been able to tell he’d needed one. Maybe that was why he’d done it. 

He looked to be searching for someone in every face that passed him. It came to an end the minute his roaming eyes found you. No longer did he appear cool and composed. His body became animated with what you could only explain as a giddiness at your oncoming presence.

By the time you reached him, Jungkook was wearing his backpack on his shoulder and his cane in his hand. He was standing and waiting for you. The happiness at being next to you was intoxicating and you could only hope you looked the same. 

“It felt like I was waiting forever,” he admitted. 

The two of you started in sync out the gate and turned left onto the main road.

“It felt like an eternity just to get to you. I have Mrs. Chun’s chemistry class for the last period. The classroom is pretty far.”

“Mhm, like on a planet far far away.”

Your eyes rolled up to look at him. The affection you found in the warmth of his eyes was startling, but not a surprise. 

Your mom used to tell you to always be careful with smiling. It caused laugh lines. It helped make crows feet. That smiling was a woman’s secret enemy she never knew about when it came to aging. She told you over and over to be careful who or what you wasted smiles on. Smiling up at him now, Jungkook was definitely worth it just to see him respond with his own. 

“Don’t be so dramatic. It’s only, like, one planet away.” 

A soft hush of laughter left him as he looked away. His gaze roaming around the street signs and their multiple names before looking back at you. 

“Are we going the right way to your place? I just realized I never even asked for your address.”

“Does it matter? I mean, with your leg and all.” You hated yourself for spoiling the moment by bringing it up. You knew it was a touchy subject when it came to his leg for Jungkook. So you weren’t surprised to see that spark of warmth fade ever so slightly from his face. His smile wilted at the edges of his lips before it all but disappeared. “You know I’m sorry I said anything. I shouldn’t have. I mean obviously you know yourself and your limits. You wouldn’t have asked if you weren’t able to do it.”

You were rambling. You were fidgeting and waving your arms around while you talked, because why not? You were doing everything else besides hyperventilating at this point. All you knew was that you felt like a jerk for even bringing it up. When all you wanted was to know he was okay. 

You were so lost in the space inside your head and worrying that you didn’t notice him laughing at you. You were mid-arm swing. Inhaling for another round of mouth babble to start asking for forgiveness when he waved for you to stop. A finger tip landing on your lips to quiet the words in your throat by shocking you into silence.

“You really don’t have to apologize so much, Y/N. It’s alright. I understand why you would ask.”

You were tempted to lick his finger away, but it felt too intimate. But so was a finger on the lips. Before you could decide your next move from your internal dilemma, Jungkook solved it for you. His finger detaching from your lips as quickly as it’d come.

“No, you don’t. I’m just worried about you. I know I should trust you to know yourself better, but-“ you did an over exaggerated shrug as you finished: “I’m a worrier.” 

“I’m flattered, I have you to worry over me.”

You knew he was teasing you and you couldn’t have been happier. You preferred it to making him sad. Plus, he was back to looking at you like you controlled the stars and oh, what a wonderful look it was.

“You should be. I’ve only got so much extra space up here.”

You tapped your head for added effect and were rewarded with a soft laugh that was followed up by a smile. God, you could get used to this. 

“I guess I need to work harder to take up more space.”

“Please, no. Let’s not do that. I need my sanity.”

You couldn’t believe you were doing so well at flirting. Usually, your sarcasm won out and you resorted to awkward winking, but this was definitely an improvement. 

“I’m not sure you have much of that left either,” he joked. 

You tried to hide your laughter with a scoff. You knew you were failing miserably at being offended. Your mouth fighting too hard to ward off a smile as you playfully bumped your shoulder into his arm. Jungkook was ready for you with his cane digging into the sidewalk to give him extra stability. 

“Ya, if I do finally go crazy it’ll be your fault, specifically.” 

“I think you’d have a hard time proving that in court. My counter argument would be pretty persuasive.” 

You looked at him in shock. 

“Court? Wow...that escalated quickly.”

Jungkook nodded his reply. He stopped in front of a bookstore and pointed at a manga in the window. You weren’t too familiar with the title, but it's a cover you’d seen plenty of. 

“It would happen as quickly as an infection from a zombie’s bite. It would seem all slow until suddenly you jumped up and tried to eat me.” 

You couldn’t keep the amusement off your face as you glanced at him and back down to the manga. A part of you wondering if it was one he’d read before or just wanted to use to make his point. 

“Question: why are we together during a zombie outbreak?”

“Isn’t it obvious? It’s because I’ll be walking you home. I’ll try and save you and while feeling all heroic about it, I won’t even realize you’d been bitten until it’s too late.”

The two of you moved away from the bookstore window and began to walk back down the sidewalk. Your mind trying to dissect what he was trying to say, but all it left you with was imagining a zombie version of you trying to take a bite out of him. 

“You must watch too much Walking Dead.”

“It’s a good show,” he shrugged. 

“Did you know that there’s actually a fungus out there that’s sort of like a zombie infection. It’s called Ophiocordyceps. It basically infects the host and within nine days of infection it takes control of the host's body movements.”

You were still walking and looking around while you spoke. Your fingers running gently over a row of gardenia’s that were planted in carefully placed pots in front of someone’s home. You were aware Jungkook had left your side by the sudden coldness of his absence. You turned to look for him and found him standing a foot away from you. A mixture of astonishment and amusement etched on his face. 

“Why do you know something like that? Actually, how do you know something like that?”

His eyes were dancing with curiosity as he moved to fall back into step beside you. 

“Let’s just say I like to read. I like strange things and facts. And science is full of both facts and strange things.”

With each small statement you held up a finger. When you ended on the third and final small fact about yourself, you wiggled all three fingers at him. The motion earned you a giant smile that only seemed to grow wider as his head shook slightly back and forth. 

“You are the strangest girl.”

“How am I strange?”

“You just told me about a body snatching fungus,” he chuckled. “What other girl is going to do that?”

Jungkook had a point. A very strong point. For all your new found confidence when it came to him, you couldn’t keep the heat from rushing to your face. Or the back of your hands from trying to hide it. 

“I would tell you to stop being embarrassed but it’s cute when you blush.” 

The two of you came to a complete stop at the crosswalk. The red light blinking to tell you two it wasn’t safe to cross. It felt like a weird metaphor for this moment in your life. 

Stop! Do not keep staring back at him as if he strung every star in the sky. Stop! Don’t continue to entertain the thought that he looked like he wanted to kiss you or that you desperately wanted to kiss him back. Stop! Even though you already knew it was too late. 

You had plans. It’d all been strategically mapped out in your head until you could read it forwards and backwards to yourself. Do your best to graduate high enough in the percentage range to get into a decent college. Get a degree for a job, it didn’t matter what it was, that made enough money to help your parents. For all your careful planning, none of it had included him and yet, the universe had you both standing at a stoplight looking at each other like there couldn’t be any other reality where you weren’t meant to end up right here. Standing at this exact light and looking at one another like no one else existed. 

Luckily, the light changed signaling for you to begin to cross. The mass of bodies that had accumulated behind you began to push you both forward and, reluctantly, broke your gaze free from him. Your brain was scrambling to pick up a conversation you weren’t sure how to resurrect. Your mind too busy daydreaming all the scenarios you would’ve taken in different realities if you were braver. Clearing your throat, you did your best to wipe the thought clean and focus on your current reality.

“If it makes you feel better,” you started your body turning to consider him as you spoke, “the study was only ever done on the tropical ants that resided in the forest. The actual effects and what it could do to humans has never been studied. Yet. But I’m willing to bet it would take longer than nine days for it to take hold of a grown adult's nervous system and larger batches.”

He was looking at you in inspired mock horror. You weren’t sure whether it was a good thing or a bad thing. Or if your unusual fact telling about zombie fungus had completely killed the mood. You got your answer in an excited hush of, “Holy shit it’s like you’re writing your own super villain backstory.” 

A smile erupted on your face as you playfully rolled your eyes away from him. It was hard to miss the mischievous glint in his eyes or the way his whole face still swam with the playfulness that lurked underneath his teasing. Jungkook was so alive. A force that required you to hang on or else you would get swept up in him without even realizing it’d happen. 

You wondered if this is what falling in love felt like. 

“I would make a terrible villain. I’m too clumsy,” you stated. Your weak attempt at downplaying yourself being met with a stern look. 

“How clumsy are we talking?”

“Hmm, I would say, ‘Kronk giving the llama potion to Kuzco,’ kind of clumsy.”

A hiss of air whistled between Jungkook’s teeth. A mock look of worry on his face as his hands moved to reposition his bag. 

“Can we call that clumsy, though?”

“What else would it be?” You asked. 

You could feel the lines grouping together in your forehead just trying to figure out what he was getting at. Jungkook didn’t seem to be in any rush to answer you. The two of you walking a few feet before he must have decided you’d waited long enough for him to reply. 

“I always thought Kronk was stupid throughout the whole movie, but really, he was just a good person. He’s a good guy tasked to do a bad thing and he just wants to make people happy. Even if it means doing the wrong thing.”

You wanted to ask if maybe he was talking more about himself than The Emperor’s New Groove at this point. He faced forward with his brow creased in deep thought and whatever it was that held his thoughts didn’t appear to be anything good. 

“Or,” you started, voice light enough to drag him out of his head, “it’s just a kids movie.”

Sure, Jungkook was looking at you, but he didn’t seem to actually see you. Somewhere inside his head, he was reenacting or seeing something that ate up all the sunshine that lived in his bones. It felt silly to feel a sense of panic about something that might not even be true. And yet, you couldn’t stop the awful thought that sadness was trying to make a home inside his soul. 

Without giving it another thought you reached up and pretended to wipe away a pretend rogue eyelash from his cheek. The suddenness of your fingers brushing on his skin jolted him from wherever his thoughts had held him hostage and back into the present. His eyes darted around your face and his own hand came up to gently take yours. 

“Sorry.” Your words came out breathy as you struggled not to focus on how he was practically holding your hand. “There was an eyelash. The wind must have blown it away.”

The earlier sadness that’d hollowed out his eyes was gone. What replaced it was one of knowing you weren’t telling the truth. His head tilted slightly down to inspect your empty finger of the proof you knew your words didn’t have whose eyes sparked with his usual teasing and something else. Something that left a different kind of heat flooding your cheeks. 

“I’m sure there was.”

Reluctantly, you removed your hand from his and continued to walk. It only took him a couple seconds to fall effortlessly into step beside you making you wonder if his leg was as injured as it seemed. 

A warm silence swelled around you as you continued to walk. A comfortable pace setting between you as he looked in the windows of every store you passed in between the changing streets. He never once asked if you were getting close to your home or how much farther it might be. It was like the moment on the back of the bus. The two of you enjoyed that the other was there without ever feeling the need to say it.

But you knew it was soon coming to an end. In only a few blocks, you’d be home and your fairytale moment would end. You were struggling on how to break this, more to yourself than Jungkook, when you noticed he pulled a Nikon camera from the side of his bag. He was squinting through the lens and taking photos of something up ahead. Of the landscape or the people and buildings that framed it you weren’t sure. 

He must have sensed your silent question as he snapped a few more quick photos before turning to acknowledge you. 

“Y/N, I have a serious question for you.”

It was hard to keep the amusement off your face as you both came to a stop. The place felt random, but it was anything but that to Jungkook. Whatever he saw in this space you both inhabited must have felt like magic to him. 

“Okay. Shoot.”

“Do you think we have enough time for me to take some photos?”

It felt like such an odd request. Why should anyone have to ask to do something that they loved? Jungkook didn’t fully say he loved doing it, but no one spent that much money on a nice camera if it wasn’t something they enjoyed doing. The look on his face was just an added bonus of proving your answer meant something. One that made you wonder why he felt like he needed your permission at all. And then it hit you: he wanted to stay in your company while he did it. 

You considered teasing him, but he looked too vulnerable standing there. You weren’t even sure if he was breathing. A pleading in his eyes that reminded you of a child asking a mother to go on just one more ride before they were forced to go home. You considered giving him the bad news that you had more than homework to do when you arrived home. But that could come another day. On this day, with him, you could spare an hour just to make him happy.

Instead of coming right out and letting him know you’d made up your mind, you decided to play coy. A soft, “Hmm,” hummed around you as you looked everywhere but him. Your index finger tapping on your lips for dramatic flare.

"Ok," You shrugged. "I think I have some free time I could spare."

His eyes squinted in question as you moved to stand in front of him. The movement simply to let a couple go by in peace, but somehow placed you closer in front of him. Jungkook’s gaze was roaming your face to find an answer to a question he hadn’t yet asked. 

“You planned on saying yes this whole time, didn’t you. You were just trying to make me suffer waiting for you to answer.”

You gasped in pretend shock and did your best not to smile at his accusations. By the growing smile on his face you knew you were failing miserably. 

“Me?! I would never do such a thing.”

“You’re secretly a sadist!”

Jungkook’s smile only widened as a scoff of disbelief passed from your lips. Your own smile grew to match his own when his hands lifted up his camera. Seconds later the sound of the shutter clicked and you felt your soul leave your body. The earlier playfulness was swiftly swept in your own dark cloud and the idea you probably looked hideous in that photo. 

“Oh god, Jungkook delete it,” you pleaded. 

Your hands were reaching out to grab tightly at this shirt. Your fingers curled in the white fabric until there was a small chance you could tear holes. The camera in question was being held far from your reach. His hand easily held it above his shoulder as he used one hand to steady you against him. You’d invaded his space without even realizing, but you had no time to be embarrassed. Not when he had a picture of you forever saved on that camera. 

“Why would I delete it?”

He was his usual amused self you could tell, but he wasn’t egging you on. His question was out of curiosity. His own eyes brimming with it as you considered keeping one hand tightly wound in his shirt and the other to jump up and reach for the camera. 

“Because Jungkook I’m not cute. You’ll be lucky if it doesn’t ruin the camera.”

All his earlier playfulness drained from his face and what was left made you instantly feel like you were about to be scolded. His hand that had firmly planted itself on your hip was achingly apparent now as his fingers gripped you closer to him. Your own awareness at how close you actually were to his chest made your lips feel dry. Your tongue flicked out to wet them and god, it took everything in you not to focus on the fact his eyes had followed the movement. 

“Y/N, why would you say that? You shouldn’t let anyone talk down about you, and you shouldn’t do it to yourself either. You’re beautiful.”

He spoke like it was a fact. A statement that not just the two of you knew, but the universe did too. And what were you supposed to say back? While you were held captive to the thought he was still looking from you to your lips. The determination for you to understand his words and believe them setting soft lines in his face. You tried to keep looking at him, but under his watchful gaze you couldn’t keep yourself from fidgeting. Your eyes moved down the line of his body until it landed on the tops of your shoes. 

You weren’t sure what to say back. Thank you didn’t fit here. It didn’t feel like a moment where he was trying to boost your confidence the way a friend did. This felt more like someone who noticed something in you while you hadn’t been looking. 

So instead of saying anything remotely clever back you began to dislodge yourself from him. Your hands releasing their hold on his shirt and forcing his hand off of your hip. Standing there with only inches between you, your body was achingly aware that his hand was gone. It’s weight leaving a burning of longing to have it back forced your hands into your pockets and your body turning away from him. You waited for him to start moving back down the road. The motion forced him to either join you or stay where he was. 

“We should get going before we run out of time.”

You hated yourself for dismissing him. For not being bolder like you’d promised yourself earlier in the day. It would’ve been the perfect time to thank him. To tell him how you were pretty sure there wasn’t a soul on earth more attractive than him, but that what made him beautiful is what he refused to let people see. The soft tone of his voice still singing along to the songs on the back of the bus had ended up being an unspoken lullaby when you’d gone to sleep. 

A part of you considered turning on your heel and telling him this. To tell him that you saw him; actually saw him for who he was and not who he felt like he needed to be. But you just kept moving forward and weren’t surprised when Jungkook found a steady rhythm back beside you. 

The both of you stayed quiet. This time it felt more forced than the easiness of earlier. Like the two of you had so many missed starts at creating a conversation that neither of you could understand why it ended.

You watched him as he focused on the area around him. His camera training on an old couple who sat waiting for the next bus. The husband had clutched his wife’s arm close to his side. In his hands he was peeling what appeared to be an orange and with each freshly peeled slice, he gave one to her and one to himself. No one knew what they were conversing about, but it didn’t matter. To them, they were the only two people there. The wholesomeness of the moment made you wonder what they were like back in their youth. 

You listened to the flutter of the shutter click repeatedly. His hand twisting on the lens to bring it in and out of focus, while he himself remained deadly focused on capturing their moment in time. You were curious how the photos would turn out in the end and wished there was a way to show them how their love translated on film. 

You were in the middle of watching Jungkook turn his attention to a couple birds inside a cherry blossom when he spoke.

“Thank you for agreeing to walk with me while I do this.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Jungkook.”

A sad smile curled his lips as he dropped his camera down in front of him. His thumb skimmed over the buttons to quickly go through what he’d previously taken. The last one he landed on made his entire face light up and you felt a pang of jealousy at what it could be. How you wish he would look at you like that. 

“Maybe, but I feel like I do. Ever since my accident, my appa hasn’t been able to force me into things. For once, I get to just do what I want. Sucks it only had to cost me a friend and a leg to get some freedom.”

Your feet had carried you to the next stop sign. The sudden halt in moving forced you to look at him, really look at Jungkook, like you’d never seen him before. 

He wasn’t looking at you now. His ears a screaming red while his fingers danced over every part of the camera. His eyes roaming over its edges and flicking too fast through pictures to actually even be looking at them. For the first time since you’d met him Jungkook was scared to look at you. Scared for what you might see if you did. 

Looking at him now, you couldn’t have been happier to indulge him. You’d indulge him for the rest of your life if he’d let you. 

“Well, I’m happy to be of service.”

You mentally smacked yourself at your choice of words. Jungkook, however, was backing to his beaming self as he finally glanced in your direction. His eyeing ate up your embarrassment as it was your turn to face forward. Your feet hopping in place as you waited for the light to flash it was okay to walk. 

“I’m supposed to be at physical therapy right now.”

“Wait, what?”

The light was flickering finally for you to all move. Your feet moved to carry you forward unintentionally, just to keep with the flow of traffic, as Jungkook gave you a small shrug for an answer. 

“Did you say you were supposed to be at physical therapy?”

Another shrug and another long pause with no answer. It seemed he had been waiting for you to round the corner onto a quieter pedestrian free street before he replied, “After school. I have appointments almost everyday and I never go.” 

“But why? It’s meant to help you get better, isn’t it?”

“Get better to do what, exactly?” He huffed. Jungkook’s entire body took on a broodier tone. His cane practically dug small holes with each press into the pavement. “Who even says that I can get better?”

“Well, doctors for one,” you pointed out. “I’m sure they wouldn’t have signed you up for it if they didn’t believe you could get better.” 

“If I was going to get better it would’ve happened already.”

It felt like walking on eggshells. This side of Jungkook was the boy you’d met on his first day of class. His guarded demeanor up on high alert, as he kept his gaze stoically forward and his chin held high. 

“You’re not an idiot, Jungkook. You know injuries take time to heal from. It doesn't just magically happen overnight.”

“Who says that I want to get better?”

The coldness in his words forced your legs to stop working. Your feet were unable to move as he continued to push on ahead of you. His own movements became slower now as the long walk was beginning to take its toll on his leg. He knew you weren’t beside him anymore and still he tried to keep pushing forward, before eventually he had no other choice but to turn around. 

The look on his face was as defiant as ever. Underneath that defiance was a sadness so raw you only wanted to reach out and hold him. If just to remind him that he was seen and that his pain mattered.

That’s when the realization hit you.

“Unless you feel like you deserve this.”

The stone façade he’d worked so hard to create in the past few minutes began to chip. His eyes being the first to show by the soft uprising of tears that you were right. Somewhere deep inside Jungkook believed that he deserved what happened to him. That this was punishment for losing a friend at his own hands, even if it wasn’t his fault to begin with. 

The tears that threatened to spill never did, but they were there. They floated dangerously at the surface of Jungkook’s control and he refused to let go. The rawness of his pain hit you and all you wanted was to help ease it. You weren’t sure if he would accept any kind of affection, even in a small hug. So your only option was to move closer to him. As close as he would allow without pushing you away. 

With each step you could see his jaw clenching tighter; pulsing like he was fighting from saying something wicked to send you skirting back. He was just as afraid of what you were about to do as you were at being the one to do it. 

When the tips of your shoes nudged against his you drew your eyes up until they landed on his. A spark of something; fear or uncertainty, flashed in his eyes. Was he expecting you to be cruel? To yell at him to stop being a child and to grow up? How much had he already heard those words shouted by adults? How long had he been standing there like this, in a world full of grief, and no one there to pull him out to breathe before the next wave suffocated him once more. 

You weren’t sure if it was you or if what you said would matter, but it was important he heard it. It was important he knew that this was okay too. 

“You got to forgive yourself sometime, Jungkook.”

The words themselves were simple. Simple and spoken between you as if there was a secret meant only for the two of you to hear. All you really wanted was for him to feel the sincerity of your words for him to know it was okay. Okay to feel sad, unsure, and helpless at times when all the world felt against you. It was okay to not know your first steps and okay to take those first steps when you were ready. Eventually, we needed to forgive, if only to give ourselves the chance to heal and move on. 

His gaze was still misty with unshed tears and still they refused to fall. The pain and defiance that had turned his features harsh began to soften. All that hardness he struggled to keep himself in and others out was beginning to fade and the only thing left was him. All that sunshine that you’d seen lived in his smile and echoed in his laughter that crinkled in the corners of his eyes. The way he cared for others and making them feel cared for. The softness of his singing and the way he eagerly filmed people at their most vulnerable: at their most beautiful. 

It was at this moment you felt your universe shift and tip until it realigned itself. With your fingers back to holding the edges of his shirt it took everything in you not to close those final inches and hug him. Jungkook closed that distance for you instead. 

His lips crashing down on your cheeks causing a soft squeak of surprise to push free from your lips. A chuckle came as he came back into view and your mind struggled to comprehend what happened. 

It wasn’t a kiss on the lips but…

“Did you just kiss my cheek?”

Your hand was up to the aforementioned spot. A wicked smile wiping away all of his sadness until you weren’t sure if it had been real at all or if you’d imagined it. 

“I could kiss your lips if you’d like that instead.” 

If your cheeks could get any hotter you could’ve fried food on them. You felt a surge of disappointment when Jungkook took a reluctant step back from you as his eyes dropped to check the time on his phone.

“As much as I hate to say this: I have to go.”

“All of the sudden you have to go,” you huffed. 

Your words felt brave, but inside your heart was thundering wildly against your chest. 

“I could stay if you want?”

Smoother than expected, Jungkook slid his way back to you. His chest bumping against you making you lose your footing just enough that it forced you to grab on to his shirt. Jungkook’s own hand had moved behind your back to steady you and bring you closer to him all at once. 

You playfully smacked his chest and earned a soft laugh from him. Unfortunately, you found yourself peeling away from him. Your hands grasping at the strap of your bag to keep them from reaching back out for him. 

“Not a chance.”

Your reply earned a playful pout from him as he started walking backwards away from you. 

“I’ll remember that, Y/N!”

You rolled your eyes and turned around to start walking the rest of the way home. You didn’t get more than a few feet before he called back to you. Your eyes found him instantly in a crowd of people that continued to pass in front of him.

“I forgot to ask: what’s your number!”

He held up a pen expecting you to come back to him and write it down presumably on his arm or hand. You didn’t see any paper and could only assume. You knew it was all just a ploy to get you to come to him. The knowledge evident by the wicked grin on his face. 

“You’re a math wiz, right?” Jungkook was perplexed for a second before you started reciting your number as loud as you were willing to shout it. The wind blew it away as he no doubt struggled to listen. 

“Wow! What a way to play dirty.”

“If it’s meant to be you’ll figure it out.”

And maybe that was true. Maybe you both had a chance to write your own love story like from the movies and shows you used to watch with your mom. Like Rose and Jack from Titanic or Ross and Rachel...okay...maybe more like Chandler and Monica. Or maybe you were an idiot and should’ve just gone and wrote it down. It was too late now as he was already on the other side of the street. 

You were ready to walk the rest of the way kicking yourself for being so lame when you heard him call your name again. When you turned you didn’t expect him to be trotting across the road. You didn’t expect him to stop in front of you and give you another quick kiss on the cheek, this one gentler than before, with every fiber of your body remembering just how soft his lips felt. 

“I could fall in love with you, ya know.”

You watched as in the same breath he hopped back across the street and couldn’t help but think you already had. 

————-

Later that night you were snuggled up inside the sheets of your bed. The only thing sticking out was the current book you were reading and the top of your head. 

You hadn’t heard from Jungkook the rest of the day. Your heart hammered inside your chest every time your phone chimed with a new message only to deflate when you realized it wasn’t him. You loved your friends and all, but they weren’t who you’d been looking forward to all evening. 

Maybe you should’ve just gone to him and written down your number. Like a normal human being would’ve done. You just had to be clever and yell it out like a lunatic. For all you knew, you could end up with a random stranger texting you at all hours. 

Your current book that you were supposed to be reading but couldn’t really read because you couldn’t focus was now face planted onto your nose. A soft groan echoing into its pages as you fought not to close it and throw it somewhere in your room. You were a hundred percent sure you’d read the same sentence a few dozen times at this point. 

In the morning, you decided, you most definitely were just going to write it down. Like a sane person would’ve done. You closed your book and placed it down beside you. Your eyes roaming up to stare at your ceiling and wondering if you were ever actually going to go to sleep when your phone chimed off. 

You weren’t in any hurry to look. It could just be your parents from the restaurant making sure you were in bed. It could be one of your friends asking about making plans this weekend. It was probably still everyone but Jungkook and yet…

Your curiosity got the better of you. You shuffled inside your comforter, reached an arm out to grab your phone from the nightstand, and quickly pulled it back inside. You waited for your facial ID to unlock the screen to see who or what you’d received. Your own mind hyping up the suspense of the moment until it read over a reminder text from your dad about your chores for the upcoming weekends. 

You hated you’d let yourself have even a glimmer of hope. It was official. You’d ruined your chances when it came to giving out your number. A groan was creeping its way up your throat as you quickly sent back a text. You knew your chores took over almost every weekend. Even when you’d made plans with friends, you’d ended up never going. 

As soon as you’d hit send you were rolling over to put your phone back on your nightstand. The shrill sound of pinging messages stopped you cold. There was no way your dad had learned to text back that fast. You laid yourself flat back against the mattress and brought the phone to hover above your face. 

Y/N?

Is this the right number finally? 

Hello?!!

If this is the wrong person, I’m sorry. I swear I’m not crazy. Just looking for a girl. 

Your heart leapt into your throat. It was beating so hard you were scared it would burst from your chest. Your eyes were still skimming over the line of text messages when another one sounded. You were so caught up in reading the next line you weren’t aware your clammy fingers had let the phone slip and it crash landed down on your face. 

“Ooow!”

One hand scrambled to pick it back up off your face, while the other massaged the now swelling brim of your nose. 

How many people have you texted before me?

There wasn’t a need to send a hi. To give him a coy response to continue to tease him or make him believe he’d gotten it wrong again. Your curiosity at the desperate way he seemed to have been looking for you was endearing. The thought that he’d spent so much time sending out random messages for a response, no matter how crazy he looked, felt silly but cute too. 

Jungkook thought you were worth the trouble. 

OH MY GOD IS IT REALLY YOU?! And maybe like... seventeen. 

You snuggled deeper into your comforter as a soft giggle joined the growing smile across your face. 

I’m sorry I should have just wrote it down when you offered the pen lol

It definitely would’ve made it a lot easier.

You’d asked yourself that question all evening while you’d waited for him. You bit your lips as your fingers hovered over the keyboard. Unsure if you should take the chance and tell him. 

“Screw it,” you whispered as you typed. 

Took you long enough. I’ve been waiting forever. 

Well, I’m sorry to keep you waiting. This girl thought it was a good idea to shout random numbers at me 😅😂.

Your head was shaking as you tried to figure out something witty to say. You couldn’t believe you were here. Inside your comforter cave smiling at your phone like a lunatic and wondering if maybe Jungkook was doing the same. Or what was he even doing? You were getting ready to type out that exact question when your phone pinged to life. 

So, ugh, on to more important matters. It read. I was thinking about your love of random facts and I think I got one for you. 

Ooooooo kekeke this should be good 

Do you want to know it or not? 

Okay okay! Lol please tell me Kookie

You could practically feel him screaming through your phone as a sideways glance emoji was sent back in a long lined response. You wondered if you’d completely ruined his fact telling when your phone went off. 

I found this article that said the chances of finding your soulmate out of 500,000,000 people was impossible. But, if you just place it to where you are, to your age group, and timing it narrows it down to a 1 in 10,000 chance. What I’m trying to get at is...I think your my 1 in 10,000

You read the message on repeat. Over and over until you were sure you’d practically memorized it front and back. You wanted to ask him for his source material. Where such an article could exist. None of that really mattered to you and how could it? 

You must have spaced out because you never sent him a reply. Your thoughts were still spinning in a world all their own as you wondered if he was sitting at his desk doing homework or lying in bed. If he was inside or outside and what had made him so brave to send that message: believing you felt the same. 

The vibration of the phone brought you back down to earth. You expected to see question marks or another line of, “Hello?” To have left him on read. Instead, the only thing that greeted you was a simple, Goodnight, Y/N. 

This time there was no hesitation from you. 

Goodnight, Jungkook

See you in the morning ?

His text felt so hopeful. A silent undertone that if you said no there was a chance you’d break him. You bit your lip as you thought about what this meant. The beginning of small promises that eventually grew into bigger ones. 

I’ll meet you at the gate

You both finished up with another round of good night’s that felt like the embarrassing texting equivalent of “no you hang up! No you!” And placed your phone back on your night stand. It took forever for the sandman to finally claim you. Your dreams consisting of the magic of being Jungkook’s 1 in 10,000. 

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[1plus1kiyoomi]

Love Story

Oikawa Tooru x Reader

: fluff, just fluff, time-skip

“Come on, (y/n)! Why are you so slow?” Oikawa whines, already standing at your shared apartment’s entryway. “Taylor Swift won’t wait for us. Move faster!”

It was your birthday a few days ago and Oikawa gifted you with VIP tickets to Taylor Swift’s concert because he knows how much of a big fan you are of her and her music. He’s lowkey a fan too. So here you are now, still at your place, an hour away from the expected starting time of the concert. At this point, you’re not sure whether Oikawa bought the tickets for you or for himself. He could be a bigger Swiftie than you are.

“Calm down, Swiftie. Taylor won’t care if you’re late.” You roll your eyes at him before putting on the shoes that completed your outfit. He stretches his hand out to you, asking you to hold his hand. You teasingly shake your head no and he pouts, leaving your apartment first.

You follow behind him laughing. After catching up to him, you wrap your arms around his torso and forced yourself between his armpits. “You smell good.”

“No. Stay away from me. You don’t want to hold me.” Oikawa looks away from you, dragging your body along with him to the elevator. You start sniffing his underarm and he laughs, giving in to your hold. He takes your hand and intertwines it with his. “Reject my hand again and you’ll never get to hold me ever.”

“You’ll be the one suffering if that happens,” you tell in a matter-of-fact tone and it’s his turn to roll his eyes. The elevator door opens at the parking lot and Oikawa suddenly runs, leaving you to stand there confused. “Is he that excited to see Taylor Swift?”

You walk painfully slow, wanting to make fun of him. But to your dismay, he doesn’t give a reaction to your unhurried manner. Entering the car, you notice how much more fidgety he has become. But you don’t pay much attention to it and register it as his excitement for the concert.

The car ride is unusually quiet. Oikawa isn’t singing along to the song, or even paying attention to the road. He’s staring at blank space and this almost leads you to an accident. “Tooru, red light!” He steps on the brake suddenly, almost throwing you off of your seat.

“Sorry, angel. I’m thinking about the concert already.” He fakes a chuckle and clasps your hand with his. You glare at him. “I’m sorry.” Oikawa takes the back of your hand on his lips, giving it small gentle kisses multiple of times.

“Ew, your saliva,” you joke and he lets go of your hand almost immediately. You smile, forcing your hand in his.

It has always been like this. Your relationship has always been the one with playful banters and endless teasing. People would often mistake you as best friends because of that. If it weren’t for his strong desire to hold you every moment, no one would have known about your relationship. But nothing’s wrong with being best friends, too. The two of you actually prefer it that way.

Noticing how cold his hand is, you set the air conditioning of the car to lowest level. His head whips at you in concern. “Do you feel cold, angel?”

“No. But I think you are. Your hand is cold,” you point out and he becomes silent again. Not long after, you arrive at Tokyo Dome. The place is packed, but thanks to Oikawa’s professional athlete status, which is already equal to a celebrity’s, you avoid the crowd and enter the dome efficiently.

The concert starts exactly when you arrive and you hear Oikawa mumbling behind you about how you could have been actually late if you moved any slower. You stick your tongue at him before focusing back on the stage.

You’re singing along to the songs and screaming on top of your lungs, but your boyfriend is too quiet. Too quiet for someone who has been reminding you about the concert ever since your birthday. Too silent for someone who flew to Japan just to go to this concert. Right then, you finally connect the dots.

“Are you feeling sick? Do you want to go home?” You say close to his ear so he can hear you through the crowd. Cold hands but feeling hot? Restless but silent? Definitely ill.

“I’m alright,” he whispers back at you, smiling at your reassuringly. Nodding, you turn around to focus on the artist on the stage.

A familiar guitar play starts and you shout excitedly, facing your boyfriend. “It’s our favorite song!”

We were both young when I first saw you...

“I close my eyes and the flashback starts, I’m standing there,” you sing along passionately. Oikawa’s hand land on your hips and sways alongs with your hips.

“It’s a love story-”

“Baby just say yes!” Oikawa sings loudly and from his chest. You chuckle before singing again. The hands on your hips start to tremble but you’re too focused on the song you don’t notice. Oikawa’s throat is dry and it’s definitely not from singing.

While you sing along in excitement, Oikawa becomes more nervous as the song progresses. He shouldn’t mess this up. He has been planning these for months now. He practiced this way more than enough. One wrong move and his plan will surely fail.

We keep quiet cause we’re dead if they knew so close your eyes...

Oikawa looks at his left and sees his friends a few seats away from the two of you, giving him thumbs up and mouthing, ‘you can do it’ and ‘go for it’. He checks at you to see if you’ve noticed them, which you haven’t so you sigh in relief.

He stares at your enjoying figure, and gets a peek of your lovely smile and glimmering eyes. The way the lights hit you so perfectly makes his heart beat faster. That’s enough to reassure him that it’ll end well no matter how his plan goes.

I got tired of waiting. Wonderin' if you were ever comin' around. My faith in you was fading. When I met you on the outskirts of town, and I said...

This is it. He has to do it now.

You on the other hand is still singing alone, unaware of your boyfriend’s wariness. “Romeo, save me, I've been feeling so alone. I keep waiting for you, but you never come...”

Out of nowhere, he’s in front of you. Oh you surely can see him, but you’re not sure if you’re seeing him correctly. The one and only Oikawa Tooru is kneeling on one knee before you, a velvet box in hand, but you don’t even notice that because your eyes are glued on the shiny diamond ring.

Is this in my head? I don't know what to think. He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring, and said...

“Marry me, (Y/N).”

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